


Silence Falls

by TheIttyBitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Gabriel, Bisexual Sam, Creepy, Dad!Castiel, Elves, Fairies, Fairy Gilda, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Friends to Lovers, Hippie Castiel, Horror-ish, M/M, Mermaids, Modern Fantasy, Multi, Mystery, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous relationship, Polyamory, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Were-Creatures, Werewolves, Witch Castiel, Witchcraft, Witches, fairy jessica, mermaid charlie, not reall scary though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10032467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/TheIttyBitty
Summary: In an attempt to hide from their pasts, Dean and Sam Winchester relocate to the small town of Silence, Maine, hoping for a fresh start.Instead, they find a whole new world, populated by creatures of myth and fairytale. Mermaids, fairies, and witches are common fare in Silence. The town promises magic, love, and even healing, but a darkness festers at its center.Dark, twisted creatures crawl out of the forest in the dead of night, something is definitely wrong with The Mayor, and the Lighthouse Keeper is loosing memories.Can the Winchesters and their new friends figure out what's wrong with the town in time? Will it be enough?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is one of those stories that i'm having a lot of trouble tagging, so here's a few points:  
> \- a town full of mythical and/or magical creatures (and a few humans)  
> \- an inter-dimensional gate  
> \- dean and cas do some mutual pining and then have a sweet, sappy relationship (i dont think this is a spoiler, you know it'll happen)  
> \- sam recovering from depression (and falling in looooooove?????)  
> \- this is not horror. It will have some creepy bits, but it probably won't be -scary-  
> \- witchcraft  
> \- lots of fantasy-type creatures living everyday lives  
> \- sam, jess, and gabriel as bff adventure sleuthing trio (i'm pretty excited about that, tbh)  
> \- Castiel being a good dad to Claire
> 
> I don't want to spoil things, so i've left quite a few tags out. I'll be adding more as I go along.  
> Anyway, I hope you give this a shot, i'll try to update it about once every week. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
> 
> Best if read along with [this](https://mynoise.net/NoiseMachines/thunderNoiseGenerator.php).
> 
>  
> 
> [Silence Falls inspiration pinboard](https://www.pinterest.com/theittybittys/silence-falls-fin/)

 

Hael stands still on the cliff overlooking the ocean, her lighthouse a looming shape behind her in the dark. The salty spray from the waves that crash against the rocks sticks to her, to her face and hair and clothes. She licks her lips and they taste of salt.

She raises her head and glares into the blackness of the night, tugging her jacket closer around her. The air smells of storms and crackles with something, something big. She tastes the air, but it doesn't give up any secrets.

She stands on the cliff, hair whipping around her face, obscuring her sight. Nothing to be seen, of course, just dark and dark and dark, but she looks anyway.

Something is coming. She can feel it.

 

-o-

 

Dean Winchester gazes out the front window of his car, watches the road disappear slowly beneath the wheels. Things are quiet. His brother sleeps calmly in the passenger seat.

They've been driving for days, from one coast to the other, backs cramped and bodies stale from sitting for far too long. One by one the states have slid by outside the windows of the car, tourist attractions ignored, gas-station food ingested. It hasn't been a happy trip, but it has to be done.

They're barely even in the states anymore. They're headed to what may as well be the corner of the world, like they can really hide from their problems if they get far enough away.

Dean has been driving through a forest for about forty-five minutes now, full of big, old trees laden with hanging moss. He's starting to think he might have taken a wrong turn at some point when, out of the blue, there's the sign.

A green sign, right there by the side of the road.

He slows the car and pulls over onto the shoulder before reaching over the shake his brother.

“Hey, wake up.”

Sam groans and tucks his head toward the door.

“Come on, wake up.” Dean says again, “Check it out, we're here.”

This gets Sam's attention. He sits up slowly, yawning, floppy hair falling into his eyes.

“We're here?” He mumbles.

“We're about to be.”

Sam looks up at the sign. He blinks.

“Are you sure this is right?”

“Yeah, 'course I’m sure.”

“It's just,” Sam rubs his eyes, “You'd think there'd be more than that, right?”

It's true. The sign is minimalist, to put it nicely. Just a big green thing with the word _SILENCE_ on it.

Dean shrugs. “It's the name of the town. Why else would there be a big-ass sign in the middle of the woods that says “silence”?”

“I guess.”

“You want to take a picture of it or something?”

“Oh, yeah, totally!” Sam scrambles to pull his phone out of his pocket and point it at the sign, and after a moment there's the telltale click of the shutter.

“Done?”

“Yeah.” Sam looks at the picture, brow furrowed.

Dean pulls the car back onto the road and through the winding woods. A few times he thinks he sees things out of the corner of his eyes, but it's probably just birds, deer. He ignores it, and in another ten minutes the woods are opening and, below them, stretches a town.

“There it is!” Dean says, excitement stirring in him, “There's the town! See, told you we'd find it.”

Sam eyes it. “Awful lot of fog.” He remarks.

Dean takes a breath and tries not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, well, this is home now. So maybe we should try and look on the bright side, huh?”

“Which is?”

“New start!” Dean tells him with forced enthusiasm, “Town by the sea! There's probably beaches. We could go, uh, kayaking?”

“You're going to go kayaking?” Sam gives him a skeptical look.

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

Sam just snorts.

The road is dark and slick, as though its just been raining even though Dean knows it hasn't. He rolls down the window and finds the air thick and heavy with moisture. It climbs into the car like a living thing, forcing Dean to quickly roll the window back up before it overwhelms them.

Dean longs to go into town, to get a bite to eat, maybe shop a little, but they can't. Not yet, anyway. Their destination lies a little outside the town, nestled snugly in the forest. Home.

 

It looks a little like a farmhouse, Dean thinks, except he's not really sure what a farmhouse looks like and he doesn't think they usually have so many turrets. Or any turrets? Come to think of it, he's not sure he's _ever_ seen a house with turrets before. Why the hell does a farmhouse have turrets? Are they usually so _round_?  


“Hey, uh,” Sam says, addressing the woman with them, “I don't mean to sound rude, but this house is kind of... weird looking.”

The woman, Pam Barns, looks fondly up at the roof. “Sure is.” She says, “This house has passed through so many hands no one bothers to keep track anymore, people build on, tear down. It's a jumble in there.”

“Why does no one stay?” Dean wonders.

Pam shrugs, “All the regular reasons, I’d guess. Need more space, need less space, want a new view, yada yada. You know how it is.”

Sam looks skeptical, but he always looks skeptical these days. “How far is it to town?”

“'Bout a ten minute walk. Not far at all. It just seems further because of all the trees.”

She puts her hands on her hips and grins at them, “How 'bout a tour? C'mon, we're not gettin' any younger.”

The inside of the house, much like the outside, is a hodge-podge of different colors, different styles, different eras. It's three stories, but smaller on the inside than it looks. The first floor holds a country-style kitchen, with big sinks, a butcher-block counter island, and roosters printed on everything from the wallpaper to the curtains. The living room has shag carpeting but the walls are mercifully painted a plain pastel blue. There's a little laundry room at the back and that's where the stairs are, leading up to the second floor. Here there's a bathroom, with a mint green toilet and a bath that's some weird shade of pepto-bismol pink. There's a room that might be a study, or maybe a bedroom, and a hall that connects the two. At the end of the hall, another staircase takes them up further, to a floor with just two rooms, separated by another hall, small enough to touch each side if Dean stretches out his arms. These are definitely bedrooms, Dean thinks, he can see where the beds used to sit... bolted to the floor? The two turrets he saw from outside sit atop these two rooms, accessible via trapdoors in the ceiling. Extra storage, Pam tells says, although she doesn't offer to show them.

Dean signs a few things he hadn't been able to do long distance, she gives them the keys, and she's gone. As soon as she drives away, Dean hears a rumble and the sky opens, rain pouring in sheets from the heavens. So much for unloading the car.

 

They don't have much in the way of luggage; clothes, blankets, and essentials are all they had. Everything else was sold off or left. They did bring a television, but considering they don't have cable or internet yet, it doesn't do much good.

They huddle in blankets on the living room floor, reading and watching youtube videos on their phones. Dean reminds himself to thank Pam again for getting the electricity turned on for them.

Sam is reading, and Dean watches him from the corner of his eye. This move across the country hasn't been easy on either of them, they've left everything behind. Their home, their friends, everything they knew, just a spot in the rear-view mirror.

Dean isn't really sure what he's expecting, for Sam to have some sort of melt-down and demand they go back to California? For him to start an argument and storm out?

Sometimes Dean has to remind himself that Sam is an adult, not a teenager. He's twenty-two for christ's sake. But then he remembers California, and his worries don't seem quite so irrational.

“I think I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” He tells Sam, “Let me know if you decide to go anywhere.”

Sam frowns, “It's night. And it's pissing rain outside.”

“Still.”

“Yeah, fine. I'll let you know if I decide to go outside and drown.”

Dean curls up on the floor, making up his mind to get this carpet cleaned as soon as he can afford it.

He closes his eyes and lets the low rumble of thunder in the distance lull him to sleep.

 

Their first full day in Silence dawns relatively clear. There are still plenty of clouds in the sky, blocking out the sun and threatening rain, but Dean isn't going to let that dampen his pretend good mood. He whistles cheerfully and wakes his brother with a smile.

“C'mon, Sasquatch, we're gonna go find some breakfast, and then we have a busy day ahead of us!”

Sam groans and pulls his blanket over his head. “I don't want to.”

“Yeah you do, you're always hungry.”

“I don't want to do the other stuff, though.”

“Yeah, well, we gotta. We need furniture and internet and all that good shit, or do you want to keep sleeping on the living room floor?”

“No.” Sam says, pouting.

“What are you, twelve? Come _on_. I'm hungry.”

Finally, after a whole lot of poking and prodding and cursing, Dean gets his brother into the car. He's looking bedraggled, but then Dean probably isn't much better. Not having a mattress is hell on his back, he just can't rough it like he used to.

The town isn't far at all, just a few minutes driving through more of those big, moss covered trees. They look so old, he's not sure if he's ever seen trees that old before.

The town isn't terribly big, and Main Street holds almost everything they need to do, as well as a diner that looks worthwhile, although Sam does take issue with the name.

“Fangfyre? What is this, middle earth?”

Dean swallows a sigh, “It's the only diner I see, lets just go. Please.”

Thankfully, the inside looks to be normal diner fare, although the hostess who seats them doesn't give them menus. She walks away before Dean can remind her. He and Sam share a look, but then their waitress is there.

“Hi, my name is Ava.” She says, “I'll be your waitress today.”

“Uh, yeah, the hostess forgot to give us menus.”

She waves his concern away, taking out her pen and a notepad, she turns to Sam, “Let me see, a water and a veggie burger for you, loaded, no tomato.” To Dean, “Pepsi, double bacon cheeseburger, seasoned fries.”

They're both staring at her in confusing and, yes, a bit of awe.

“How-” Says Sam.

Ava grins and taps the side of her head with the pen, “Psychic.” She says.

Dean and Sam both force a laugh, but as soon as she leaves they're leaning toward each other over the table.

“Dude, what the _fuck_?” Dean whispers. 

“I know, right?” Sam's eyes are bright, “Like, what was that about?”

“How did she _know_?”

“Maybe she's really psychic.” Sam chews on his bottom lip, “Is that possible?”

“Sam, come on.”

“Okay, but like, obviously she does this all the time, right? The hostess didn't even give us menus, she _knew_.”

“Or. _Or_. It's just some kind of, _lets fuck with the new people in town_ , type of thing.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Oh, you really doubt that, do you?”

“Uh, yeah, Dean-”  
  
But then Ava is back, setting their drinks in front of them. Before Dean can tell him to _shut up_ , Sam is leaning toward her.

“Are you _really_ psychic?”

Ava looks bemused. “Uh, yeah?” She says, “That's what I said.”

Sam narrows his eyes, “If you're psychic, why are you working at a diner?”

“What, you think we're all middle aged ladies doing tarot readings in our living room?” Ava glowers, her cheerful demeanor slipping quickly away, “I know what people are going to order, okay? That's about it. Fuck me, right? Fucking useless-ass gift-” Before either of the boys can do anything, she tosses her notebook onto the table and storms away, leaving Sam and Dean to stare after her.

“Whoa.” Says Sam.

“You pissed her off!” Dean accuses, “Now we'll never get our food.” His stomach grumbles sadly.

“I'm sure we'll get our food, Dean.” Sam says, but he's looking around like he's not really sure of anything anymore.

“I'm very sorry about Ava,” Says a voice, and when Dean looks up, he finds a tall, pale woman standing next to their table. She definitely hadn't been there before. How did she get there so fast?

“Uh, no, it's okay. My brother is just an idiot.”

Sam scowls, but he's polite when addressing the woman, “It  _was_ my fault. I- I didn't think- I was rude. I didn't mean to be, but I was.”

“Don't worry about it, dear.” She wipes her hands on the apron tied around her waist, “She's touchy these days. I just came out to let you know that you'll have a new server in just a moment.” She gives them a smile and backs away.

As soon as she's out of sight, Sam leans forward conspiratorially, “Was she pale or what?”

“Dude,” Dean lifts his hands, “What the hell? You want to insult _everyone_?”

“No, I just-” He lowers his voice even more, “I just think it's weird is all.”

“What's weird.”

“I don't know, this town?”

“Ugh, let's not start this again.”

“What kind of name is _Silence_ , anyway? I mean really? It sounds like it should be full of puritans or, like, a cult.”

“I don't know, Sam, back home there's a town called Mormon Bar. I mean, this shit just happens. They ran out of good town names at some point and just started naming them shit. Doesn't mean anything.”

“Or-”

“C'mon, Sam.”

“ _Or_! We're in some creepy cult town.”

Dean leans back and takes a deep breath, wishing for a way out of his conversation. Lo and behold, the door to the kitchen swings open. A man comes out, carrying plates.

“Oh look, there's our food,” Dean points out quickly, “Thank fuck.”

“Good morning, gentlemen!” Says the new server. He's on the short side, long brown hair twisted up into a bun.

“Morning.” Sam says pleasantly.

Dean watches as the server does a double-take at Sam, eyes wide.

“Uh,” Says the server, suddenly much more stuttery than before, “So, uh, yeah. I'm Gabriel. I'll be your server since the- uh, since Ava's taking a break.” He takes a breath, “So, bacon cheeseburger for you. And a veggie for you. Veggie, huh? Wait, wait, there's a line there.”

Gabriel scrunches his face up, thinking.

“What?” Says Dean.

“Uh, something about meat?” Gabriel snaps his fingers, “Looks like you could use a little meat in your diet? Huh?” He looks between the two of them, “No, no. That- that was bad. Yeah, that was bad. It just sounded like I was giving you dietary advice. Sorry. I'm gonna leave now.”

He leaves, and Dean is stuck staring at his brother's face, gone a startling shade of scarlet.

“So.” Says Dean.

“Um.” Says Sam, seemingly not in the mood to argue anymore.

“You have anything you want to do especially today?”

“Um.” Says says again, he blinks, “No. No, I don't think so. Whatever we need to do, I guess.”

Sam lingers on the last bite of his burger long after he needs to, and Dean can't help but wonder if it has anything to do with their stuttering waiter who keeps coming out to give them unnecessary refills on their drinks.

Their next stop is close, and they decide to walk instead of drive, enjoying the picturesque main street and the cool day.

“So, that waiter was weird, huh?” Dean prompts, peering into shopfronts as they walk.

“What?”

“The waiter. C'mon, you had so much to say about everyone else.”

Sam shrugs and pushes his hands into his jacket pockets, “Seemed fine.”

“ _Fine_?” Dean wiggles an eyebrow.

He gets an eye-roll as a response, and a scoff. “You know what I mean.” Sam insists.

“Yeah, sure.”

They do the tedious stuff first, signing papers and handing over money until Dean's head aches, and he must be tired because for a second he could have sworn a girl at the town hall had a tail.

It's not long before his eyes feel heavy and he's rubbing at his temples trying to relieve his headache. Fucking adult shit, paperwork, god he hates it.

“Man, I gotta take a break.” He tells Sam, slumping onto a nearby bench.

“Tired already? You really are old, aren't you?”

Dean gives him the finger, but there's no heat in it. He's exhausted.

“Okay, well, I'm gonna check out the library.” Sam tells him, “Just down the block.”

Dean exhales, nods, “I might look into this... whatever it is.” He nods at a store across the street.

Sam raises his eyebrows, “You going New Age on me?”

“Just curious.”

“Alright. I'll catch you in a bit.” And off he goes.

The store is called Autumn Leaf, and the front window is full of chimes, crystals, plants. Dean has never been in a New Age type shop, and he's curious. He feels  _compelled_ , almost, like someone has taken him by the hand and is currently leading him across the street. 

The door opens with a chiming sound, and Dean suddenly feels something inside him go still. Something he hadn't realized was even there, calmed by this place.

It's bigger than it looked from the outside, longer, and wider somehow, although that can't be possible. The air inside is clear and still, as if he's standing at the edge of a stream. Sure enough, he can hear the sound of trickling water somewhere nearby.

It has a much different layout than he expected, as well. Against the left wall, near the window, is one long counter covered in crystals and plants, with a cash register down at one end. At the opposite corner of the shop, toward the back, near a long staircase, is another counter. He can't tell what it's for, but there are several quaint, mismatched tables nearby with similarly mismatched chairs. There are shelves in the in-between spaces, holding everything from teas to seeds to crystal balls. Occult books and sets of tarot cards sit next to succulents and strange hanging chimes that don't really seem much like chimes at all. Shelves are set all along one wall, laden with big glass jars that hold herbs and other things that Dean doesn't really understand.

The store is so quiet, so peaceful, that Dean thinks at first that it's empty. He's lulled by the sound of trickling water, which he still can't place.

Movement caught out of the corner of his eye startles him, but when he looks, he can't imagine how he hadn't seen the girl before. She's behind the counter, fiddling gently with the plants. Tall and slim, her features fine, with long golden hair falling in waves down her back. She's gorgeous. There's something... odd about her though. Something wiggles at the back of Dean's mind, as if he's forgotten something. Her skin seems to shimmer as she moves, almost otherworldly, some combination of makeup and the light, no doubt.

Dean looks away, she's young and he doesn't want to scare her.

Slowly, he moves through the shelves, reaching out to run his fingers along the wood, old and dark.

“Hello,” Says a voice, close by.

Dean spins, startled, to find a man standing quite near him. It must be something about this shop that's making him pay so little attention. The man is tall, of a height with Dean, with dark hair and strikingly blue eyes. His features, while fine, aren't as delicate as the girl's. He doesn't quite seem otherworldly, just very handsome. His clothes are a little odd, billowy white shirt and tan pants that are so flowing and loose that Dean first thinks they're a skirt.

“Oh, uh, hi.”

“I'm so sorry,” The man says, apologetic smile at the ready, “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Oh, no. It's okay. I guess I just wasn't paying attention.”

“That will happen. Time moves a little slower here.”

Dean sighs, “It does kinda seem that way, doesn't it?”

The man gives him a small, bemused look, and holds out his hand. “I'm Castiel Collins.” He says.

Dean gives his hand a firm shake, “Dean Winchester.”

“Good to meet you.” Castiel releases Dean's hand, “I own this place.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean is impressed, “You seem young to own your own business.”

Castiel shrugs, “I got lucky.”

“Still impressive.”

Castiel smiles at him again, it's small, mostly with his eyes. “So, was there something you were looking for, or were you just browsing?”

“Oh, uh. Browsing, I guess. I've never been in one of these before.”

“One of...”

“Like, New Age or whatever.”

“Ah,” Castiel, “So what made you decide to come in?”

“I don't know.” Dean answers, truthfully, “I just... felt like I should.”

This earns him a bigger smile, full of white teeth and crinkling eyes, “You followed your heart. I admire that.”

Dean ducks his head, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his lips. “Thanks.”

Castiel looks at him for a moment, thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen you around before. It's a small town.”

“Just moved here, yesterday actually, me and my brother.”

“Oh! Where from?”

“California.”

“Oh _wow_ , quite a difference.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “You're tellin' me.”

He expects questions, _why did you move here, what are you running from_. Surprisingly, Castiel instead asks,

“Would you like some tea?”

“... I would love some.”

 

 

Sam

The Silence Library is a huge old thing, gray stone bricks and menacing gargoyles. Huge oak doors and dark windows high on the walls. Sam looks at the sky, expecting to see jagged lightning. It's a storybook library, promising secrets within its walls.

He feels a chill run through him as he pushes open the door, not quite as heavy as he thought it would be. The inside, though, is much as he expected. The high ceilings and dark windows make for dim light and his footsteps are loud on the wood floor. The air is heavy, it smells of old wood and book glue, and Sam can't help taking a deep breath. For a moment, he feels whole.

“Hello, dear!”

Sam blinks as a young woman calls from the front desk. “Oh, hi.”

She's tall and thin, with long dark hair and skin that seems to shimmer oddly in the dim light. Sam blinks again, trying to discern what's wrong with her complexion.

“Can I help you with something?”

“No, thank you. I'm just looking.” He gives her a wave and wanders further in.

“Don't go too far, dear.” The woman calls, “Not past the blue lamps.”

Sam doesn't see any blue lamps, and he doesn't think he's going to get lost in a _library_ , for god's sake. He keeps walking, up and down the aisles, looking at the book spines and letting himself fall into this familiar pattern. He hasn't been inside a library in years, how sad is that? He's a little ashamed.

The library welcomes him back, though. It holds no grudges, just offers him its contents with open arms.

He breathes.

It takes longer than it should for Sam to realize that he is, in fact, lost. He's walking along the stacks and, no matter which way he turns, he can't quite seem to find the way back to the front desk. There's no way, he tells himself, it's just not a big enough building for him to get _lost_ in it.

He can feel himself starting to panic, muscles tensing, stomach churning, pulse quickening.

“It's fine.” He tells himself, taking a deep breath, “It's just a library. Can't _really_ get lost in a library. Don't be stupid.”

What's that thing they say about mazes? Something about walls? Right, right, just follow a wall. Eventually, you'll find the exit.

Sam takes another deep breath, finds the nearest wall, and walks along it. It seems like a good plan, at first. He feels better, not quite as afraid. He'll just follow the wall and be out in no time. But two minutes stretch into five, five into ten, and he starts to panic again because there's _no way_ the building is this big. He's seen the outside of it, it doesn't take ten minutes to get anywhere in a building this size. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Hello!” He calls out, “Is anyone there? Library lady?” His voice breaks, and he hates himself for it, but he's good and scared now.

Of course, that's when he sees it. A shape, dark and indiscernible, down the aisle in front of him. He closes his mouth so fast he knocks his teeth together. Is it alive? Maybe it's just a pile of books or something, he thinks.

It shifts.

Sam takes a fast step back, and another, but it's mere seconds until his back hits the wall. The thing is moving still, slowly. Not not huge, maybe the size of a dog, and he can't make out any features. It's bathed in shadow even though, now that it's moving forward, it shouldn’t be. It _is_ a shadow, he realizes in one heart-stopping moment. It's a fucking shadow, creeping toward him.

Sam can't breathe. His vision starts to blur.

“Oh, dear, there you are.” Comes a melodious voice, from his left. He looks, and sees the lady from the front desk walking briskly toward him.

He needs to warn her. To _tell_ her. She has to watch out.

But then she's seen the shadow-thing, her expression changes.

“Oh, shoo, you.” She says.

To Sam's confusion, it does shoo. It crawls harmlessly back into the shadows of the stacks.

“Give you a fright?” She wonders, “Some of the patrons feed it, you know, makes it unmanageable. It just expects everyone to give it cheese puffs now.”

“What... the _fuck_.” Sam grits out finally, having gotten back just enough of his breath to swear.

The woman looks at him, startled. “Are you alright? It's just a shadow, darling, no need to fret.”

It's much too late, Sam is breathing too fast now, sliding down the wall to his knees.

“Oh, goodness.” Says the librarian.

 

The librarian, Gilda, is surprisingly strong. She helps him to his feet and guides him back to the front desk in a matter of minutes.

“I know all the short-cuts.” She tells him.

Now, he sits behind the checkout counter on a little stool, bottle of water pressed into his hand.

“I- I think I had... an episode. Or something.” He says.

Gilda reaches out and pats his knee. “Afraid not.” She says, to his dismay, “Well, you had a panic attack, but you weren't hallucinating if that's what you mean. Drink your water. Go on, you'll feel better.”

Sam twists the cap off of his water bottle and takes a long pull before trying to think again. Everything is very blurry and confusing.

“I just. I'm confused.”

Gilda _tsks_ , “If I had known you were new I wouldn't have let you go wandering off on your own, That's my fault, I'm sorry.”

“I meant-”

“I know. I'm getting to it.” Gilda frowns and rubs her hands nervously on her jeans, “Do you know what a World Gate is?”

“No.”

“It's simply... a way to travel between worlds. Sort of like a door. A place where... reality is thinner, and our world touches the next.”

“The next? Like... heaven or something?”

Gilda lets out a bark of surprised laughter, “Oh, gods no! No, I don't mean the afterlife. I mean, um,” She moves her hands wildly as she thinks, “Another dimension? A world _next_ to ours.”

Sam takes a breath. There's a part of him that wants to believe her, but he can't help thinking that she's simply off her rocker.

“So, what, you're saying that this library is a door to another world?”

“Oh, of course not! That's a whole other subject. No, our town _guards_ a World Gate. Just off the coast. To sort of make sure it stays operational, make sure any travelers get through alright.”

“Travelers?”

Gilda nods happily, “Creatures who come through the gate.”

“Like what?”

“Dwarves, fairies, elves, that sort of thing.”

“Fairy-tale creatures? You're trying to tell me that fairy-tale characters come through a gate to another world that's off the coast?”

“Otherworld creatures have been coming and going since long before humans were even _here_.”

“You realize this sounds insane, don't you?”

She frowns at him. “I suppose it might. But you did just see a living shadow, and you got lost in a relatively small library.”

“Yeah, what's that about?”

“All Gate Towns are linked through our libraries. It's sort of a... twist of dimensional fabric. Go far enough and you'll end up in a completely different library, in a totally different town.”

“Whoa.”

“Mhm.”

“There are other Gates?”

“All over the world.”

Sam tips back his head and drains the rest of his water. He thinks, looking at Gilda, then looking back into the library stacks.

“Why should I believe any of this?”

She shakes her head. “You have to learn to trust your eyes, dear.” She says. She gives herself a little shake, like she's cold, and unfurls her wings.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean snorts, “I wouldn't call it a castle. But it's not a bad house. Got it pretty cheap. The ghost is pretty friendly.”
> 
> “And what more could you ask for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> \- cas dresses like a hippie  
> \- (that's because he's a hippie)  
> \- ghost pre-teens  
> \- sam makes friends!  
> \- things i never knew i needed: buff, feminist fairy Jess wearing crop-tops  
> \- what's in the woods?

Dean is more relaxed then he has been in a very, very long time. As it happens, the other counter he'd seen earlier is a “tea bar”, which is a weird name for a place to get a cup of tea. Castiel has made him a cup, lavender and catnip, and they're sitting together at one of the small tables with mismatched chairs. Castiel is sitting cross-legged, leaned over the table with his chin in his hand. Never in his life has Dean seen a grown man sit like that. Castiel is... soft. It's hard to explain, but it's undeniably refreshing. He has a good energy, Dean thinks, he may as well since he's in here with all this New Age stuff.

They're chatting, and no matter what Dean says Castiel listens like it's the most interesting thing he's ever heard.

The shop around them stays mercifully quiet, nothing but their voices and the soft trickling of water, the occasional song note from the golden haired girl. Dean thinks he could easily spend all day here.

“Do you get much business in a small town like this?” Dean wonders, “Doesn't seem like there'd be that many mystical types around.”

Castiel grins at him, knowing and secretive, “You'd be surprised,” He says, “We have something for everyone.”

“Yeah? You have something for me?”

“I'm sure we have something that'll catch your eye.”

Dean smiles, and is rewarded when the man sits back, ears turning pink. He'd love to do this all day, but he can't. He sighs.

“I should probably get going, I still have to buy furniture.”  
  
“I have some used furniture upstairs if you're interested in any of that.”

Dean perks up, a chance to get more shopping done _and_ not leave here? He's interested.

“Absolutely, yeah, lead the way.”

Dean, gingerly cradling his tea, follows Castiel to the big staircase at the back of the store. The stairs are old and creaky but, Dean hopes, solid. At the top of the staircase is a landing, a hallway stretching left and right. Directly in front of them is a door, swung open to reveal a brightly lit room full of baby cribs of all different sizes, colors, and makes.

“Ah, no. Not in there.” Says Castiel, taking Dean firmly by the arm as he makes to step inside.

“Why not?” Dean wonders. It's not as if he needs a crib. In fact, he can't quite figure out why he wants to go into the room so badly in the first place, only that he feels it like a tug on his stomach.

“That room isn't for you. Anyway, the children are sleeping. This door shouldn't be open.” He reaches out quickly to shut the door with a sharp snap, frowning seriously.

“I didn't see any children.” Dean protests.

Castiel looks at him, curious, “Maybe next time.” He says, cryptically.

They continue to the right, a short distance to the end of the hall and a large, open room full of used furniture.

“Whoa.” Dean says, looking around in awe.  
  
“This is where it all ends up.” Castiel tells him, walking between a sofa and a desk, trailing his long fingers over the fabric.

“Do you have fixed prices for these?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side a bit, considering. “Why don't you tell me what you like, and I'll tell you what it costs.”

“I'm not sure- I don't have much money.”

Castiel waves his concern away, “We'll work something out. You're part of the community now, we take care of each other.”

Dean looks out over the sea of couches and chairs and desks. “You've got everything.”

“That's what they tell me.” Says Castiel.

 

 

Sam

Sam is not running. He's just walking very quickly. This is not an emergency, and he's not running. He's not freaking out. Everything is fine.

He's out of breath when he gets to the Autumn Leaf, and feels immediately guilty when the door swings open with more force than he intended, causing a riot of sound from the chimes above the door.

He looks around, but he doesn't see his brother anywhere. In fact, he doesn't see anyone.

Wait, no, there's movement. A girl.

“Hey,” He says, voice cutting through the silence like a sword.

The girl looks up, startled. “Can I help you?” She sounds hesitant, but sharp.

“I'm looking for my brother. Came in earlier? About this tall?”

The girl's face clears and she nods, “Upstairs, to the right.”

He goes, ignoring the thought in the back of his head, is she human? Or is she something else?

At the top of the stairs he starts to turn right, only to pause at the sight of a door. Just an ordinary door, but it's pulling him in. He needs to see what's behind the door.

It's not locked, he finds, the nob cool beneath his palm, and the hinges don't squeak. It's full of cribs. Dozens and dozens of baby cribs. In each, a shadow. They're not all the same size, some big, some small. All reaching with dark, smokey tendrils toward the ceiling. They don't look like real things, but like something he might imagine on a particularly bad day.

He knows the girl is behind him even before he feels her hand on his arm.

“You shouldn't be in here.” She says firmly.

“What- what is it?” He wonders, fingers trembling, “What are they?”

The girl pulls him out of the room with a small hand and a strong grip, “They're just ghosts,” She says, “They're not in any pain.”

“But-”

“Crib deaths.” She tells him, “Try not to think about it.”

“Fuck.” Says Sam, ducking his head. The panic starts to rise again, a bile in his throat and in his head.

“Shh,” Says the girl, “Come on."

She pulls him, surprising him by wrapping her arms around him and tucking his head to her shoulder.

They're still for a moment, until he calms, and then they're parting. She's taller than he originally thought, prettier too.

“This way, come on.” She says, and leads him to the right, to a room at the end of the hall full of used furniture. Dean stands among the couches and tables, talking to a dark-haired man who looks to be wearing a skirt.

“Sammy!” Dean calls, spotting him, “Check it out, everything we need in one place.”

He's not wrong, and buying secondhand would be cheaper, but there's a few of these couches that give him the creeps, although he's not quite sure why.

“Um. I need to talk to you.” He tells his brother.

“Alright, give me a minute. Which do you think?” He points between a dark green couch and a bright red one. The red one makes Sam's head hurt.

“The green.” He says, “But look, there's something I really-”

“Oh, hey, this is Castiel, by the way. Cas, this is my little brother Sam.”

Castiel gives him a smile and a wave, Sam nods back.

“And I’m Jess.” Says the girl, looking a little perturbed, “Just fyi.”

“Oh, yes,” Castiel smiles sheepishly, “Jessica works in the shop. Jessica, this is Dean Winchester, and his brother Sam."

She pretends to curtsy, gives the room a wave, and leaves as quickly as she came.

“What did you want to talk about, Sam?”

Sam looks at his brother, then at Castiel. He's not sure if the man is even human. He can't say this here.

“I... I guess I'll just tell you when we get home.”

He doesn't like it. The knowledge that nothing here is as it seems lies heavily on him. He needs for his brother to know as soon as possible. But he doesn't want to do it with strangers around, when he doesn't know what they might do.

So he follows his brother anxiously through the maze of furniture.

“Hey,” Says Dean, eying an armchair, “this looks just like the one you had in your dorm.”

Sam moves closer to inspect it, and finds himself unbalanced by the  déjà vu -esqu feeling that comes over him. 

“I think that _is_ the one I had in my dorm.”

Dean laughs, “Yeah, right.”

“No, I'm serious.” Sam says, moving closer to pick up one of the pillows that goes with it, dark print with minuscule blue flowers all over, “Look, this is where I cut my hand that time and I couldn't get the bloodstain out.”

“Weird.” Says Dean, inspecting the stain with his brother now. His eyebrows furrow. Nearby, Castiel is waiting patiently with his hands behind his back.

“And here's that juice stain that looks like a t-rex.”

“No way! No way someone else would have the same chair with the _same_ stain.”

Sam shrugs. “It's my chair.” He insists. He just _knows_.

“If it's yours, you're welcome to it.” Says Castiel.

Dean stills, “What, you really think it's _his_?”

Castiel shrugs, “I told you, things end up here.”

Dean just looks at him. “You're a weird dude, you know that?”

Another shrug.

Sam feels sick to his stomach. It's _his_ chair, from his dorm, the few semesters of college he got. It feels like an intrusion, like maybe someone was watching him. Why is his chair here?

“Dean, I want to leave.”

Dean looks up sharply, posture tense and concerned, ready to leap to the rescue, “You okay?”

Sam swallows, “I- I- no. No, I don't think so. I need to go home.” He's only half faking it, a good portion of him is slowly starting to freak out as panic overwhelms him. It's very clear to him that he has to get out of here.

“Okay, um.” Dean looks to Castiel, “I'm sorry, man. Is it alright if I come back later on? Or maybe tomorrow?”

“Any time.” Says Castiel, “Sam, would you like some tea? You're looking a little pale.”

“No. No, thanks. Dean, come _on_.”

“Okay, alright. Uh, see you, Castiel. Thanks for everything.”

“I'll walk you out.”

Castiel walks with them, which does nothing for Sam's nerves but seems to make Dean happy. Jessica is behind the counter again, watching them warily. Dean says goodbye a _third time_ before they leave, giving his unfinished tea back to Castiel, and takes a deep breath when they leave the store.

“Something happen?” He asks, once they're on the way back to the car.

“Kind of. Look, I’ll tell you when we get home.” He's seeing shadows everywhere, and in the shadows, claws and teeth and glowing eyes. He's waiting for something to leap from an alleyway and drain their blood, rip them to shreds. They're just humans, in a town full of monsters.

“Walk _faster_!” He hisses at his brother.

“Jesus, Sam, can you cool it?”

“I'm freaking out, Dean!”

“Okay, alright. I'm sorry.” Dean walks faster.

In the car, Sam feels a little better, and better still when they're leaving town, driving through the woods. Maybe he should feel more afraid in the woods, all trees and shadow, but it doesn't fill him with the same sort of dread that the town does.

Only once they're parked in front of the house does Sam feel like he can talk.

“This isn't a normal town, Dean.” He says.

Dean shrugs, “I guess it's a little odd.”

“No- I mean- there's some weird shit in this town. I mean, like, _really_ weird.”

“Okay?”

“I saw some stuff at the library.”

“Like what?”

Sam struggles here, trying to figure out a way to convince his brother of what's going on. “There are _monsters_ here, Dean.”

Dean frowns, “Did someone do something? Are you okay?”

“No, that's not- that's not what I mean. Like... Like fairies and- and vampires and stuff.”

It's at this point that Sam loses him. He can see his brother's thought process as though its written plainly on his face; first he thinks it's a joke, then he realizes that Sam is serious and he starts to get Concerned, with a capital “c”.

“Sam,” He says, “I know this is a lot of stress-”

“I'm not having a breakdown, Dean. I swear. I'm not seeing things. I talked to a woman at the library who had _wings_ , she said that there's a _World Gate_ off the coast-”

“Sam,” Dean interrupts, “I... You've got to get that this _sounds_ crazy, right?”

Sam sighs, “Yeah, I guess. But- it's real. You believe me, don't you?” He hates the way his voice wavers at the end. Dean has to believe him. If he doesn't have his brother, what does he have?

Dean closes his eyes, scrubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I trust you, Sam.” He says, “But, also, there's no such thing as- as _vampires_. We both know that.”

“So... so, what?”

“I don't know, Sam. I'm really trying not to be an asshole, but you have to get where I’m coming from. What you're suggesting? Isn't possible. “

Sam takes a breath, presses his fingertips against his eyes. Could it be a mistake? Could he have hallucinated all of it; the fairy woman, the shadow, the ghost-things, a whole conversation? Could he have imagined it? Is it possible? Maybe. Maybe it is. He's not exactly stable, not anymore, what if this is the next step? Maybe this is things getting worse, imagining whole conversations.

“I don't know.” He tells his brother, stomach churning. He feels a little dizzy, off-balance, as a pit of doubt opens in his heart.

“Hey,” Says Dean, reaching out to grip his shoulder, “It's been a long few days. You're probably tired, I know I am. Lets just take a minute, okay? We'll take a minute to chill, I’ll order some pizza, we'll get some extra rest tonight. How's that sound?”

With a lurch of guilt, Sam remembers that they still don't have furniture because of him. All of his is because of him.

“I'm sorry, Dean.” He can't stop himself curling forward, one hand pressed to his stomach.

“Whoa, whoa.” Says Dean, “It's cool. You had a bad day, happens to the best of us. No big deal.”

They go through the motions until Sam has calmed down, until he can breathe again. They order pizza, they huddle on the living room floor again, wrapped up like caterpillars in blanket cocoons.

While he appreciates Dean's efforts, they don't make Sam feel any better. He keeps wondering how, _how_ , he could have imagined all that. If he can imagine as much as he did today, what's next? What's real and what's not? How is he supposed to know?

He continues to doubt himself into the night, until Dean goes to get something from the kitchen and comes back white as a sheet.  
  
“You okay?” Sam wonders.

“I think I owe you an apology,” He says, staring at the carpet, “For not believing you earlier.”

Sam looks at him, confused, “Huh? Why?”  
  
“Well, uh, there's a see-through kid in our kitchen, so... I think we have a ghost?”

 

The good news is, Sam isn't crazy. At least not in this respect. If his brother believes him, it must be true, and everything starts to make sense again.

The bad news is, the house is haunted. This might explain why no one ever stayed for long, although, for a ghost, Emmie isn't that bad.

She's maybe twelve, translucent and tinged blue, quiet as a whisper. She talks, but not much, and she doesn't seem to do a whole lot. She's wearing a dress, but Sam can't tell what time period it's from. Not too far back, definitely. The seventies, maybe? It's hard to tell. She sits and watches them eat pizza for a while.

“So. Uh, how long have you been... here?” Sam asks her, trying not to stare at the ring of slightly darker blue skin around her neck. Hanging? Strangulation?

Emmie shrugs, “A while.” She says.

Dean just stares at her. He's having some trouble coming to terms with the fact that there's a ghost in their new home.

“You're not going to, like, scare us off, are you?” He wonders.

Emmie sighs, shakes her head. “I get lonesome.” She says, “Did you bring anything fun?”

“Uh, tv?”

Emmie nods, satisfied, “I like tv. You can stay.”

“Oh. Good.” Dean looks at Sam, eyes wide. He mouths, _what the fuck?_ He's handling the revelation that their house is haunted better then Sam would have thought, but he's obviously still freaking out.

Sam, on the other hand, is feeling calmer than ever. He hasn't been hallucinating or imaging things. It's good news.

“So.” Dean says, blinking a lot, probably more than he should, “Ghosts. What else did you say? Fairies?”

Sam nods. “Definitely fairies. The librarian is one.”

Dean looks at Emmie, “Did you know about this?”

She rolls her eyes, “The town is called _Silence_ , what did you expect?”

“I _told_ you.” Sam gloats.

“Oh, no. No way you're ganging up on me with a _ghost_ , I cannot handle that today.”

“Do we need to, like, put you to rest or... exorcise you or something?” Sam asks.

“I didn't _do_ anything!” Emmie wails, looking suddenly near tears, “Don't make me go!”

“Alright, alright. Nobody's making anybody go anywhere, simmer down.” Says Dean, “C'mon, Sam, don't be an ass.”

“Language.” Says Emmie.

“I didn't think it would upset you.” Sam tells her.

Emmie sniffs and looks away, pouting.

“I've never talked to a ghost before.” Sam tries, “I'm not very good at it.”

“No, you're not.” She says, then rolls her eyes again and sighs, “I guess it's okay.”

“A _pre-teen_ ghost,” Dean muses, “Of all things.”

 

Sam dreams of dead things. Every step he takes, everywhere he looks, everything around him rots and falls away. Wails rend the air, thick with ash and sadness, and there's nowhere to turn. He can't look anywhere without seeing a dead face, milky eyes and translucent skin. Black smoke wraps around his legs and pulls him down, down into the black abyss.

 

“We've got to go back.” Dean says, the next morning, “We need furniture, Sam.”

“More than we need to be alive?”

“You know, I'm not convinced we were in any danger.”

When he thinks about it, Sam isn't either. There was the shadow, but Gilda seemed fine, really. That doesn't mean they should go traipsing around in a town full of monsters.

“I thought we were trying to stay safe.”

“We are, we are. But you know what would make me feel really safe? A mattress.”

“Dean-”

“I'm too old to sleep on the floor anymore, Sam, it's murdering my back. I have to go into town tomorrow anyway, I have a _job_.”

“Just- they're not _human_ , Dean.”

Dean shakes his head and leans back against the counter, “Maybe that doesn't matter.”

“It feels like it should.”

“This is home now. We bought this damn house, we're stuck with it. Might as well make the best of it.”

Sam wants to protest, but he recognizes a lost cause when he sees one. Dean is using his Dad voice, which basically means the argument is over.

“Fine. But if we die, it's your fault.”  
  
“Isn't it always?”

“Whatever.” Sam grumbles.

The drive into town is tense, quiet. Sam keeps expecting someone to jump out and confront them. Every movement he catches out of the corner of his eye is a potential threat.

As before, they find a place to park before heading down Main Street. With new knowledge, Sam can pick out how things aren't quite right. The sign above a bakery door hangs without the help of rope or chain, many of the storefronts seem to be abandoned, and they pass not one, but three decrepit churches.

The Autumn Leaf lies in the center of this, a beacon of Weird.

The chimes sing happily as the Winchester brothers enter the store, and just as soon there's Castiel, looking like he just stepped out of the nineties, in denim overalls and a vibrant geometric patterned shirt.

“Dean, Sam!” He greets them cheerfully, “Good morning!”

“Morning,” Says Dean, “We came back for that furniture. Sorry about running out yesterday.”

Castiel waves him off, “It's not like it's going anywhere! Come on up!”

“You coming, Sam?” Dean wonders, when his brother doesn't follow them to the stairs.

Sam thinks of the room at the top of the stairs, suppressing a shudder. “No, I'll just... I'll hang out down here.”

“Suit yourself.”

A moment later they're gone, and Sam is alone. All alone in this Hostile Land. Well, maybe he's being a little dramatic. The Autumn Leaf doesn't exactly inspire fear, it's very calm, actually. Without the weight of anyone's eyes on him, Sam lets himself relax and look amongst the shelves. There's nothing particularly sinister here, just rocks and plants and books, mostly.

“You looking for something?” Says a voice.

Jess, the girl from yesterday, peers at him around one of the shelves.

“No, no I- just looking, I guess.”

She comes and stands by him anyway. She has on jeans and a tight black shirt that only comes halfway down her midriff. It says _dump him_. It's a little distracting.

“So.” He says, after a long moment, “Is this like, a magic store?”

“More of a supply store. Where are you from, anyway?”

“California. Are you human?” It's probably not polite to ask, but Sam is so far out of his element that he may as well be in another galaxy. It seems a little safer in the context of this game, an answer for a question.

“No.” Says Jess, “Why'd you move here?”

Sam hesitates, “Personal reasons,” He tells her, finally, “So, what are you?”

“Fairy.”

“Can I see your wings?”

Jess' eyebrows rise sharply, her lips thinning into a flat line, “Someone's feeling bold.”

Sam backtracks, face flushing. He doesn't want to offend a magical being. Yeah, maybe she's evil, who knows, but she's still something  _other_ , something  _more_. Sam is loathe to offend her. “I mean- is that rude? I don't- I don't know. I've never dealt with... magical people before. Except we have a ghost in our house. But like, we only found her yesterday anyway. And I don't know what I'm doing.”  
  
Jess stares at him for a long moment, she narrows her eyes and furrows her brow, “So... did you... not know what this town was, before you came?”

Sam shakes his head, “No idea.”

“That's just odd. Nobody comes here, you know? Unless they already know we're a Gate Town.”

“We didn't know.” Sam reiterates.

Jess looks at him, tapping one long finger against her chin, “Interesting. But no, you shouldn't just ask to see someone's wings.”  
  
“But... the fairy at the library showed me hers...”

Jess shrugs and sniffs, “Whatever. I'm not showing you mine.”

“No- I just mean- why did she show me hers if it's rude?”  
  
Jess sighs, “It's not rude to _show_ them, but it's rude to ask. It's just, like, a personal thing. Just don't _gawk_ , okay? We're not zoo animals.”

“No, yeah, course not. But- okay, don't take this the wrong way.”

“No promises.”

“Are we... in danger? I mean, we're humans. Like, are we going to get eaten? I know that sounds bad-”

“Listen.” Jess says, one hand on her hip, “We're a civilized town. We don't hurt each other, or anyone else. Everyone here just wants to live normal lives. We're a lot of different species from different cultures coming together, we work hard to get along. No, you're not in any danger. And if it helps, there _are_ other humans who live here.”

“Oh,” Sam lets out a breath, it seems like he's been holding it since yesterday. He believes Jess. Maybe he has no real reason to, but he does. There's just something about her, and it's not her midriff, thank you very much.

The chimes over the front door sing happily again as someone enters, followed directly by a familiar voice.

“I brought food!” Says the voice.

Sam and Jess turn together to find the waiter from yesterday stumbling through the door with several brown paper bags.

“Morning, Gabe.”

“Hey, Jess-” Gabriel sees Sam and Jess side-by-side and almost trips again, “And the Big Guy. Hey.”

“Hey.”

Gabriel goes to set his bags on the counter, which brings him much closer to the pair and, by extension, Jess' bare stomach.

“Eyes up here, Collins.” Says Jess.

“Yep. Yep, yep.”

“Have you guys met?”

“Sort of?” Sam says, “He was our waiter the other day. After I... offended the other one. Sorry about that. Uh, I'm Sam, by the way.”

Gabriel shakes his head, “Anything sets Ava off anymore, wasn't really your fault. But hey,” He snaps his fingers, “How about, um, _how would you like a little meat in you_? And then I gesture to my crotch.”

“What the fuck?” Says Jess.

It takes Sam a moment to realize that Gabriel is referring to the joke he tried to make yesterday about Sam's veggie burger. He snorts.  
  
“That just sounds like you have a small dick.”

“Hey!” Gabriel wags a finger at him, “I'll have you know, it's... average.”

“Oh, well, that changes things.”

Jess rolls her eyes, but she's grinning. “Are we going to eat or what?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel grabs the bags and makes his way toward the little tables, “Sam, you coming?”

“Sure.”

 

 

Dean

 

Castiel is dressed like he just stepped out of a nineties sitcom and Dean is _loving it_. It suits him, somehow. Maybe it's just because the guy doesn't seem to have reservations about it at all. Or... it could be that _somehow_ those overalls are doing great things for Castiel's ass. Either way.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Dean can't help but ask, leaning against an enormous wardrobe.

“Of course.” Says Castiel, “They're everywhere.”

“Oh. Well. There's one in our house.”

“Oh?”

“I mean- should I do something about it?”

“Are they hurting you in some way?”

“No, no. It's just a little girl. But like, aren't you supposed to help them move on or something?”

Castiel's purses his lips, thinking, “It's not that simple. Her soul is gone. The thing that you're seeing? It's not the girl. Or, not as she was when she was alive, at least. It's more of... an imprint. A memory, almost. Like... her energy. Her soul has moved on, but her memory hasn't. But there's really no reason to do anything about it unless she's bothering you.”

“She's not. I just wondered about it. I guess I have a lot of questions.”

“Don't hesitate to ask,” Castiel says, studying him, “Curiosity is a beautiful thing.”

“Are you human?” Dean asks, after a moment. He wasn't going to, but since he got an invitation...

“Yes,” Castiel says, “But I'm also a witch.”

“A witch.”

“Yes.”

“Do you... sacrifice animals or, like, people?” _Please say no_ , Dean thinks, _please say no please say no please-_

“Of course not!” Castiel tells him, a frown marring his pleasant face, “That's archaic.”

“Oh,” Dean lets out a sigh of relief, “Good.”

Castiel tilts his head to the side, looking closely at the plains of Dean's face. “Life is a very beautiful thing, I think it's a shame to end it before its natural time.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

They're standing closer than before, seems like. Castiel leaning his hip against a couch, ridiculously perfect overalls shifting up his leg.

“What else do you want, Dean?” He asks, voice low.

“What?” Dean breathes.

“Furniture? What else do you want for your house?”

Dean is not at all proud of the way he blushes, begins to stammer. He's a grown man, for heaven's sake, he has control of himself.

“I- I uh, yeah. Um. I- I think that's it. Actually. Yeah. I think that's all I need.” He just _needs a moment_ , “I think you have everything. Is that magic?”

“In a way.”

“Is that really Sam's old chair?”

“Probably?”

“... You don't know? Where'd it come from?”

Castiel shrugs one shoulder, and Dean watches as one of his overall straps slips down his arm, “Things just have a way of ending up here. I told you.”

“You don't question it?”

Castiel thinks for a moment, “There are some things that... it just doesn't do any good to wonder about. This room isn't going to offer up its secrets any time soon, so I may as well not bother asking.”

“I guess.” Dean looks around the room, at the collection of mismatched furniture stretching as far as the eye can see, “So, what's this going to set me back?”

He tried to only get necessities: a table, chairs, couch, mattresses and bed frames, a desk. They're used, but still- he's not sure what Castiel will want for them. He's an enigma, and Dean can't guess what he'll do next.

Castiel smiles at him and pulls out his own list from a back pocket. “These are things I need.” He says, “I'll trade you.”

“You'll...” He looks down at the list, “trade me?”

“Yeah.”

It's nothing like he thought. No dollar amount in sight, not even anything that would cost him anything.

  * a memory (any)

  * a week's worth of dreams

  * some lavender

  * help building some shelves

  * a favor (to be determined)

  * a kiss




“There's a lavender field close to your house,” Castiel explains, “You don't even need to harvest it, I’ll do it, I just want permission.”

“A memory?”

“Any memory. But you won't remember it after I take it.”  
  
“Why do you need a memory? Or my dreams for a week?”

“They're very useful in magic, but I can't harvest my own dreams.”

“Alright. Uh, shelves I can do. That one's easy.”  
  
“I thought you seemed handy.” Castiel grins at him, shifting happily on his feet.

“A favor.”

“I just feel like it might be useful.”

“Within _reason_.” Dean clarifies.

“Of course. I would never ask you to do anything you weren't comfortable with.”

Which brings him to the last item on the list.

“And you want... a kiss?”

Castiel looks at him for a beat too long. “For... magical purposes.”

“ _Really_?”

“Kisses are very powerful.”

“Are they?”

“They are.”

“Do you... want it _now_?”

“Oh, no no,” Castiel stands up straight, “We'll get your things moved and then we'll work on payment. There's no rush.”

 

Several pickup truck loads later, everything has finally been carried into the Winchester's new house. Somewhere along the way they've acquired the blond girl from the shop- Jess, and the waiter from the diner- Gabriel, who is apparently Castiel's younger brother.

He envies the way Sam, Jess, and Gabriel look like they're friends already, tramping loudly through the house together, occupying so much more space than they should, the way young people do. It's hard to make friends when you're an adult.

But then, there's Castiel, standing by his side looking up at the tall house. He's leaning against the back of his pickup truck, feet bare, hands tucked into his pockets.

“I've always loved this house.” He admits, “I used to think it looked like a castle.”

Dean snorts, “I wouldn't call it a castle. But it's not a bad house. Got it pretty cheap. The ghost is pretty friendly.”

“And what more could you ask for?”

There's a long beat of silence, and Dean decides that he doesn't really want Castiel to leave just yet. He seems like he could be a friend, and Dean is in desperate need of a friend.

“You want a beer?” He wonders.

Castiel frowns a little, and Dean thinks for a moment that he's going to decline, so much for making a friend.

“Would it be weird if I asked for tea instead?”

Dean laughs, unable to help himself, “No, course not. We'll get you some tea.”

 

The kids are somewhere, Dean can hear their laughter nearby, although he's not sure if they're inside or out. He and Castiel are on the front porch, sitting on the steps and watching the road. It should be boring or awkward, but Dean is only finding it peaceful.

“Who's watching your shop?” Dean asks after a while.

“No one, I closed up.”

“Can you do that?”

“It's my shop.”

“Well, yeah, but won't you lose money?”

Castiel shrugs, “If someone really needs something, they'll call me.” He pats the pocket on the front of his overalls, where presumably his phone is tucked.

As if on cue, a tinny ring peals out.

“Ah,” Castiel sighs, fishing his phone out of the pocket, he looks at the caller ID, “I have to take this, if you'll excuse me for a moment?”

Dean holds Castiel's tea as the man stands and walks a few paces away to answer the call. His changed demeanor doesn't inspire confidence, he goes tense, then sighs again.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there.” Dean hears him say.

After he hangs up, he comes and slumps down onto the front steps again.

“I'm sorry to run out on your hospitality.” He says, “But apparently my daughter has gotten into a fight at school.”

Dean blinks, trying to quickly reconcile his view of Castiel with that of a _father_. He wouldn't have thought it.

“How old is she?”

“She's sixteen.”

“Yikes.”

“You said it.”

“You don't really... seem old enough to have a teenager.”

Castiel sighs again, but this time it just seems a little wistful. “I had her very young. I was, um, a big advocate for “free love” in my teens.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Not anymore, thought?” It's just a question, purely innocent. Dean isn't fishing for information at all, no way.

Castiel looks at him, a small smile on his lips like he knows exactly what Dean is thinking. “Not quite so much.” He allows, “I love Claire, but she doesn't need a younger sibling.”

Dean chews on his bottom lip, feeling a rush of disappointment, because it sounds like Castiel is straight. There have been quite a few times when he'd thought they'd been flirting, or something like it, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe Castiel does want that kiss just for magical purposes.

He takes a breath and swallows the sour feeling, thinking that Castiel is still a good friend to have.

“Well, have fun.” He says.

“Oh, of course. I always have fun when my daughter assaults her schoolmates.”

Dean snorts, “Yeah, I bet that's a blast.”

Castiel takes a step toward his truck before remembering something and turning back. “Can I have your phone number?” He asks, “So we can, you know, talk about payment and-”

“Yeah! Yeah, totally.”

Dean jumps to his feet and fumbles hastily for his phone. He's almost surprised that Castiel has one at all, although he can't pinpoint quite why. He's seems like the kind of guy who would write letters instead, but that's entirely impractical.

“Do you have a job lined up, or are you looking?” Castiel asks, plugging Dean's number into his phone.  
  
“Uh, I’m doing books for Bobby Singer. Starting tomorrow.”

Castiel looks up at him, surprised, “Singer Auto?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh, how'd you manage that?”

“He's... an old friend of my parents'.”

Castiel frowns at him, but doesn't say anything more about it. “Well, if that doesn't work out you could always come work at Autumn Leaf.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

"No problem. Hey, I'll see you later.” He says.

He leaves Dean with a phone number and a vague feeling of unease, like there's something he should remember, but doesn't.

 

 

Sam

 

Most of Sam misses California, the heat and the beach and everything familiar; he'd kill for an order of China Kitchen egg-rolls, the view from his dorm at Stanford. Everything. It aches like a hole in his chest, a crater that won't be filled. It leaves him vulnerable. But again, he's glad to be gone. He's glad to be as far away from home, from all the memories that reside there. Glad he doesn't get a proverbial knife to the chest every time he sees that one corner gun store, Everett Park, Oli's Ice Cream. He feels guilty, running away, but he can't stand getting punched in the face with memories and guilt every time he opens his eyes. It's too much.

If he's being honest, Sam doesn't really miss any _one_ in California, though. He had friends at school, but in the end none of them stuck around. Dean is all he's got. But here... here-

“You did _not_ just shove me, you crazy Amazon bitch!” Gabriel yelps.

“Call me a bitch again and I’m going to pick you up and throw you as far as I can.” Says Jess.

Gabriel dodges her long arms, hurrying to put the kitchen island in between them. “Oh my _god_ , how are you so strong? I didn't think fairies had super strength.”

Jess grins maniacally at him from across the island. “It's called working out, you should try it sometime.” She puts her hands on the counter, and Sam guesses what she's about to do. Gabriel does not.

“If you start calling me “bro” I’ll have you committed.”

Jess leaps, up and over the table in one graceful, long-legged bound, tackling Gabriel to the ground and bringing several wayward dishes with her.

Gabriel's shrieks, mixed with Sam's laughter, echo through the house. It's only moments before Dean sticks his head in.

“Who's getting murdered?” He wants to know.

Jess looks up from her place astride Gabriel's stomach, where she's been tickling him viciously. “Nobody yet, just teaching this gnome a lesson.”

“I'm _not_ a gnome!” Gabriel whines.

Dean's brow furrows. “I thought I heard a woman's scream.”

“Ah, no, that was just me.” Says Gabriel.

Sam laughs harder. Dean looks at him and his face softens, but he put on his best Dad voice and says,

“Well, just take it outside, okay? Don't need you hooligans destroying my new kitchen.”

“Hooligans!” Says Jess, looking equal parts offended and elated.

“Outside.” Dean reiterates.

The three of them end up on the front porch, Jess and Gabriel sit side-by-side as though they weren't just try to kill each other moments ago.

“You're going to get bug bites on your stomach.” Says Gabriel, poking at her bellybutton.

Jess slaps his hand away and glares.

“Is there like, a movie theater or something in town?” Wonders Sam.

Gabriel leans back to look at him from behind Jess, “Yeah, we have a movie theater. Why?”

Sam shrugs. “Just seems like, I don't know, we should be hanging out at a movie theater.”

“Well, we're not in a nineties teen drama, so no. But we can see a movie if you want.” Jess shrugs.

“There's no good ones out.” Gabriel sighs, “We could go bowling.”

Sam shoots him a look. “Bowling? You're suggesting _bowling_?”

“I happen to like bowling, thank you very much.”

Sam has known them for a handful of hours. A girl and a boy; a waiter and a shop-girl; a fairy and a witch. He's getting to know their surfaces, the way Gabriel likes to tease and joke and the way that Jess is fierce and smart. He doesn't know what's inside, not really, can't imagine what thoughts and secrets swim in the depths of them. Yet, he feels himself drawn to them in a way he's never been drawn to people before. He wonders if it's Fate, if this is already written, or if it's simply something inside of them calling out to something inside of him.

He looks at them, sitting together on the porch. Gabriel, a grin at the ready, laughing eyes and a body ready to spring into action; Jess, golden, mouth curled into a dangerous half-smile, tongue like a whip. He looks at them, and he feels calm. Just for a moment. He takes a breath, turns his head away, unable to look for any longer. He stares at the woods instead, at the lengthening shadows among the tall trees.

From between them, something lumbers. Something big, with antlers as long as his outstretched arm. It looks a bit like a stag, but not.

“What's that?” He wonders. Just some creature he doesn't know the name of?

Jess and Gabriel go silent, and Sam is startled by Jess' hand grabbing him hard by the arm.

“What _is_ that?” Says Gabriel.

It lumbers further out of the shadows, huge and dark. It _does_ look like a stag, but twisted in a way that makes Sam's eyes hurt. He can't look at it.

“Get inside.” Jess says, very quiet.

No-one moves.

“Let's get _inside_.” She hisses again, this time pulling both boys up with her as she stands, “Go, go _go_.”

It's still standing in the dim light as the three of them retreat inside the house, watching. Red eyes unblinking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you guys guess who i'm going to make Sam fall in love with?   
> lol i'm not going to tell you


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> \- dean re-connects with bobby  
> \- dean helps cas build a shelf  
> \- cas wears bell-bottom pants  
> \- The Gang (sam & gabe & jess) goes mystery hunting  
> \- fresh looks served by gabe and jess 24/7
> 
> this a mostly deancas chapter, but i hope you'll all have fun imagining cas in rainbow bell-bottoms

A white police car sits in front of the Winchester's house, parked alongside the sleek black impala. The sheriff, Jody Mills-Hanscum, and the deputy, Jo Harvelle, stand with Dean on the porch. The kids are inside, peering furtively out the windows.

Jody has wings. It's the first _really_ unnatural thing Dean has seen, besides the ghost. Sure, Castiel and Gabriel are witches, and Jess is a fairy, but they all look relatively normal. Whereas Jody, dark haired and straight-forward, has a pair of sturdy brown wings folded neatly to her back. They don't quite look how Dean always thought wings would look on a person, they're much smaller and more muscled. They look less suited for flying then, say, fighting.

The deputy looks different too, her features thinner and more angular than a regular person's. Her ears are long and tapered.

Dean does his best not to stare, standing here in close proximity to these two otherworldly women has him shaken, as does the beast currently stalking the treeline.

“What is it?” He wonders.

The women look out at the creature. Jody shakes her head.

“Never seen anything like it.”

“That's not exactly reassuring.”

“It looks like a stag.” Jo says, squinting thoughtfully into the dusk, “Just... all _wrong_.”

“So, what do we do?” Dean wonders, “Do we shoot it?”

Both women look at him sharply.

“I don't know where you're from, kid,” Says Jody, “But around here we don't just go around shooting things we don't understand. We don't know what it is, why it's here, what it wants.We don't know if it's something from beyond The Gate. I guess that's as good a place to start as any.” She looks at Jo, who nods. Without another backward glance, the two of them step off the porch and head out across the yard.

Dean wants to protest, wants to tell them to stay where it's safe, but he has a feeling that this suggestion wouldn't be well met. Instead, he watches anxiously from the dim light of the porch. He observes as they warily approach the beast, and nothing happens. Dean keeps waiting for it to charge, to skewer someone with its massive antlers. He can hear them speaking - to each other or the beast, he doesn’t know - but he can't pick out any particular words.

Nothing happens. The thing doesn't move, doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to notice the women. It turns its head from side to side and that's all.

After a while, Jody and Jo make their way back to the house. They share a look, and Jody says,

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean, you don't know?”

“Seems like a stag. We don't think it's anything supernatural, it's just an animal. It didn't even seem to realize we were there.”

“Okay, but _that's_ weird, right?”

“Yeah, it's weird as hell,” Says Jo, “There are a lot of weird things about it. It's... mutated, or something.”

“Is this... something that happens a lot here?”

“Never that I’ve seen.” Says Jody.

“Great.” Dean grumbles, “So, what do we do?”

Jody frowns, looking from Dean to Jo, to the creature at the edge of the woods. “I guess we let it be. It's not hurting anything.”

“But it _could!_ ” Dean protests.

Jody shakes her head and adjusts her stance, hands on her hips, it's obvious she's not in the mood for argument. “Listen. We don't think it's dangerous. Obviously something _has_ happened to it, but otherwise it's just your run-of-the-mill stag. Nothing dangerous.”

“But-”

“But if something does happen, you have our number.”

From her tone, Dean knows that that's the end of it. He wants to argue more, but he doesn't really have much to go on and he doesn't want to antagonize the local law enforcement before he's even been here a week. So he purses his lips, he nods.

“Alright,” He says, “Thanks for your help.”

“I know it's weird,” Jody says, not unkindly, “but there's a lot of weird stuff that goes on around here. Most likely, this is nothing.”

Oddly, not very comforting. “If you say so.”

Jody nods, “Let us know if anything else comes up.” She says, before heading back to her car with Jo in tow.

Dean watches them go, staring down the drive until long after the car is gone. This doesn't sit well with him, just leaving the thing out there. It's big and lurking, standing there in the half-light like an omen. He doesn't understand it, and that scares him. He's aware that this is a fault of his, and he's working on it, but he'd like to be working on it while less afraid for his life.

When he finally goes back inside he finds the kids – three alive and one ghost – huddled around the window, still peering out into the darkness.

“What did they say?” Sam wonders.

“They don't think it's dangerous, they said to just... leave it alone.”

“It's freaky though.” Says Sam.

“No doubt.” Gabriel agrees.

“You want me to go out?” Jess asks, “I can... I don't know. Talk to it?”

“No, no. Everybody stay inside. Until we know for sure whether or not it's dangerous, I think we should all stay away from it.”

Sam and Gabriel seem on board, but Dean doesn't like the look on Jess' face.

“I mean it.” He tells her, “Don't go out there.”

“Sure.” She says, completely unconvincing.

Dean sighs, “You guys want a ride back into town?”

“Yes,” Says Gabriel.

“We'll walk.” Says Jess.

“Um,” Gabriel raises his eyebrows, “Excuse me, there is no way I’m walking back through the woods at night, okay? I'm not trying to get eaten by a fucking jaguar or something, okay?”

Jess snorts, “A _jaguar_?”

“I don't _know!_ A bear? I don't want to get eaten by anything!”

“You're a witch! You have magic.”

“Okay, one,” Gabriel ticks off on his fingers, “I'm not very good and you know it. Two, if you think magic is going to straight-up stop bear teeth then you don't know very much about it.”

Jess rolls her eyes, “Right, the _fairy_ doesn't know anything about magic.”

“It's different and, again, you know it!”

“I'll protect you.”

“Okay Rocky, can you also make me _not_ afraid of the dark?”

“Am I driving you back or not?” Dean interjects, beyond done with their squabbling.

“Yeah, _fine_. If we walk he'll just cry the whole way anyway.”

“I absolutely will.”

“Alright, come on, get in the car.” Dean shepherds them out the door,

 

The beast doesn't move that night. Although Dean hurries home, almost expecting the thing to be ramming his door, it's still there by the treeline. He triple checks all the doors and windows, making sure they're locked tight, and asks Emmie to let them know if she sees anything strange. Although, from the ghost girl he gets nothing more than a non-committal shrug.

He sleeps badly too, waking up every forty-five minutes to look out the windows, to check the beast, to make sure Sam is still safe in his bed. He knows he's being overly paranoid, but with everything that's happened in the last year, he feels it's justified. Can't be too careful.

Nothing happens though, the stag is still by the trees, Sam is still sound asleep, Emmie is still watching late night television in the living room. Nevertheless, he can't shake the feeling that something is _wrong_. But, he worries, maybe that's just the part of him that doesn't like change, or new things, and is having a harder time adjusting to this fairy-tale town than he'd like to admit.

 

The next morning is his first day of work, and he's in a terrible mood for it. He's tired and achy and paranoid, ready to fight or run at any moment. It's not a good attitude for a new job.

Fortunately, he feels better the moment he sets foot in Singer Auto. He enters the workroom through a side door and the smells of motor oil, gasoline, and break fluid surround him, the feel of concrete under his feet, the tinny sounds of metal on metal. For a moment, he's a child again, sitting in his Dad's garage watching him work on the impala. It's enough to leave him standing in the doorway looking like an idiot.

“Can I help you?”

Dean blinks, and finds himself face to face with a young man. To say he looks strange would be an understatement, but Dean does his best to keep his expression neutral. On the whole, the man looks human. He's slight, with tan, freckled skin and a nice face, but his hair is a tumble of purple curls that look suspiciously like flowers. Like, they _really_ look like flowers. His hair might be flowers.

“Um. Hi. Yeah, I’m Dean, I’m here to-”

“Winchester?” The boy guesses, wiping his hands on his stained coveralls, “Bobby's been talking about you for _weeks_.”

“Has he really?”

“He's been absolutely _insufferable_.”

Dean laughs, “Sorry.”

“No, it's okay. We need someone to do the books. Like, bad. Bobby might be great with cars, but numbers? Not so much.”

“You guys do much business?”

“Oh yeah, we're the only auto shop in town. Next closest one is in Everrett, and that's a forty-five minute drive.”

“Damn. This really is a small town.”

“You said it,” The man sighs, “I'm Eric, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, alright, let's go find the bossman.”

They find Bobby in the small front room talking to the receptionist, a small brown haired girl with bright eyes. It's been years since Dean has seen Bobby, probably ten or more, but he looks much the same as Dean remembers, albeit a bit grayer around the temples.

Bobby looks at him for a moment before his face floods with recognition and a smile splits it.

“Dean Winchester!” He holds out his arms and Dean, despite being a full-grown adult, can't help the rush of relief he feels, “Goddamn you've gotten big!”

“You're one to talk, old man. I see that salt-and-pepper, don't act like it's not there.”

“Ah, just as spiteful as you ever were. Why did I agree to hire you?”

“'Cause you can barely count on your fingers, I assume.”

It's easy, this back and forth between Dean and an old family friend, but there's the heavy weight of things not said between them, things purposely ignored and brushed away. They'll talk about it eventually, but today is not a day for drudging up bad memories. Today is a day for new beginnings.

Eventually, after small talk has played itself out, Dean gets set up in a little back office that smells like old paper and dust. The books are abysmal, of course, not that he expected anything less. It's good, though. It's nice to do work, to do what he knows and not think about anything else. To disappear into old receipts and order forms and good, solid numbers. Bookkeeping is something that makes sense to him, to make order out of the chaos, to make nice straight lines out of the mess.

Lunch comes around before he knows it, and he's sitting in a little break room with Bobby.

“So, how're you adjusting to the town?” He asks, and there's a little bit of anxiousness about his eyes.

“Oh, you know, fine, just fine. When I called and asked you for a job, I feel like maybe there were a few things you neglected to mention though.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” He definitely looks guilty now.

“Yeah. Like, I don't know, yesterday I met the sheriff and _she had frickin' wings, Bobby, how could you not tell me about this?!_ ”

Bobby sits back, brushes the crumbs out of his mustache, and clears his throat. “Well, you know, I guess didn't really think you'd come if I told you.”

“Oh, you don't think so?” Maybe he's laying the sarcasm on a bit thick, but at this point he feels like he's earned it. This has all been a really big shock and, while he is working on it, he's not happy about being surprised with it.

“What would you have said?” Bobby asks wearily, “If I said, 'Hey Dean, come work for me in this Gate Town, we have ghosts!' you'd have thought I was off my rocker.”

“I'm still not convinced you're _on_ it.”

“But you see what I’m sayin'? This isn't the type of thing you can just tell someone, especially not over the phone.”

Dean sighs and shakes his head, “Would'a been nice to have a heads up, is all. I've got a friggin ghost living in my new house.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She's okay.”

Bobby nods solemnly, “Uh, on that note, there's something else I outta tell you.”

 

Karen Singer, wife of Bobby Singer, has been dead for years. Dean went to her funeral, in fact, right before Bobby disappeared into the north. He doesn’t remember her that well, honestly, he wasn't that old. He does vaguely remember what she looked like though.

Pretty, dark haired, nice smile. Like this.

“Hi there, Dean!”

“Hi, Karen.” Dean looks at Bobby, who gives a sheepish, and entirely incriminating, smile.

“So, uh,” He says, “Here's the thing-”

“Your wife is a ghost?” And suddenly, things start to fall into place. Bobby's sudden departure from warm, sunny California to weird, and frankly creepy, Silence. His residence here, amongst all these otherworldly creatures, “You moved here because your wife is a ghost?”

Bobby shrugs, “That's the long and short of it.”

“Jesus, fuckin' christ, Bobby.”

“Language.” Karen chides, “Sit down, dear, you're stressing the cat.”

Dean sits down heavily at the Singers' little kitchen table. He scrubs a hand through his hair and looks at Karen. Really, she looks almost alive. A little blue, slightly transparent around the edges, but not like someone who should be six feet under. Well, maybe she is, somewhere.

“I don't get it.” Dean admits, “How did you know this place was here.”

“Heard it from a friend, who heard it from a friend. I kinda took a big risk, but it worked out. Now... she can stay.”

Dean looks at Karen again, and thinks about what Castiel said about ghosts just being shadows, memories. But then, maybe a shadow is better than nothing.

“How did you do it?” He wonders.

Bobby looks at him for a moment, then gets a very sad, knowing look on his face. “I didn't do anything, Dean. It just happened.”

“It's true.” Karen agrees, “There was nothing and then... I was awake. I don't know- I don't know why.”

Something in Dean's chest wilts, some small thing he hadn't even realized was there. Yes, he knows that there's no bringing back his dad, or even his mom. But for a moment, a split second, he'd hoped.

“I gotta get back.” He says, unable to look either of them in the eye, “Your paperwork is a damn mess.”

“Stay a while.” Says Karen, “I'll make you a cup of tea.”

“Maybe next time.” Dean lies, fighting off nausea, “I gotta go.”

The rest of the workday goes poorly. Dean can't concentrate, his mind keeps straying, to ghosts and monsters and dead things. He leaves an hour early and no one tries to stop him.

Really, all he wants to do is go home. He wants to sit down on their new-used couch and watch some damn television, but instead he finds his treacherous feet taking him just one street over, to Main, and the Autumn Leaf. He stands outside for a long time, wondering. Is it weird that he's back again for the third day in a row? Is it strange that, upset and unthinking, his feet brought him here seeking comfort?

Yes, it's strange, he thinks, but this whole town is full of strange things and maybe this is how Dean fits.

Inside is just how he remembers, removed from the world by some invisible barrier. The chimes sing, the world quiets, and someplace nearby, that bubbling stream.

At the counter is neither Castiel nor Jess, but a new girl. She's blond as well, but shorter, younger, and distinctly sullen. She seems to be doing homework.

Dean feels like an intruder as he approaches her. In this sanctuary of silence, he's a blundering bull.

“Hi, uh, is Castiel around?” He asks her.

She looks at him. It's a long look, calculating and bored at the same time. Whatever she finds, it makes her roll her eyes. She tilts back her head then, toward the ceiling, and screams, “ _Dad_!” at what Dean assumes is the top of her lungs.

“He'll be down in a minute.” She says, turning back to homework, as if she hasn't just shattered both of Dean's eardrums.

She's right, and it's only moments before Castiel appears at the top of the stairs. Now that he's looking, Dean can tell that they're related. They look alike; same cheekbones, same pale blue eyes. Strangely, though one is scowling at a math problem and the other is wearing rainbow bell-bottoms, they have the same light in their eyes. Otherworldly, something different.

Castiel smiles, and Dean's heart forgets to beat.

“Dean! Hi!” He calls out, jumping the last step. The move is strangely juvenile, but Dean finds it endearing.

“Hey, Castiel.”

“Dean, this is my daughter, Claire.” Castiel says, having reached the counter, “Claire, this is Dean Winchester, a new friend.”

Claire gives him more consideration now that she knows he's a friend of her father's. She narrows her eyes and purses her lips and looks, generally, like she's trying to set him on fire with her mind.

“Nice to meet you.” She says.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too!” Dean says, smiling in what he hopes is an nonthreatening way, “What're you working on.”

“Calculus.” She scowls at the book.

“Oh, fun.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Dean looks to Castiel for help, but finds the man looking simply bemused by the interaction.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Uh, sure.” Says Dean. He's never had so much herbal tea in his life as he has in the last few days. He's not quite sure how he feels about that.

This time, he follows Castiel to the tea counter and watches him as he works. He's so calm, movements smooth and practiced. He's kind of a weird guy, Dean thinks, his personality completely at odds with his exterior. He's quiet, patient, kind, whereas his clothes are bright and loud. But Dean likes it. He can't say why, really, but it suites him.

He watches Castiel heat the water in a floral-print teapot, watches him measure tea leaves into an infuser. Mostly, he's just watching Castiel's hands. They're big, wide palms and long fingers, but delicate somehow, gentle.

Dean pries his eyes away from Castiel's hands before he starts to blush, looking instead along the counter, looking at the plants and baubles.

One small display catches his eye, a basket full of small glass balls that, at first glance, appear to be marbles. They're smaller than marbles though and, when Dean looks, they seem hollow but for bits of swirling colored smoke. A little sign on the front of the basket proclaims, _**Good Dreams, 4 for $1.00**_.

“What's this?” He asks, mesmerized by the swirling smoke.

“Good Dreams.” Castiel says, stepping away from the tea for a moment.

“How do they work?”  
  
Castiel picks one up, it's so small between his fingertips. “You eat them.”

“Eat them?”  
  
“Eat them.” He pops the thing into his mouth, bites down on it, and it bursts before instantly dissolving into vapor.

“Is it magic?”

“What else?”

Dean picks up one of the little orbs. “So, you're telling me that _this_ is a dream?”

Castiel shakes his head. “It's more of a suggestion. It just... tells your mind to give you a good dream.”

Dean rolls it between his fingers. It's softer than he thought it would be, not glass at all. If he squeezed it hard enough it would break, blue smoke swirling out into the air.

“Take some.” Says Castiel, “On me.” He ducks down behind the counter and Dean can hear the clink of glass before Castiel comes back up with a jar. He scoops a handful of the dreams into the jar and caps it, then holds it out.

“For you.”

Dean almost protests, but Castiel looks so delighted. He reaches out and takes the jar, fingers brushing Castiel's against the glass.

“Thanks.” He says, “I actually, uh, came here to do something for you.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I was going to see if you wanted to go ahead and do that shelf. I should have called, I know. I just- with work and everything, I guess I just wasn't thinking quite straight.”

Castiel smiles, a small smile, as if he knows a secret. “That would be wonderful, Dean. Thank you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean looks away, clearing his throat, “I um. Yeah. Lets build you a shelf!”

“Yes!” Castiel says, energy renewed, “Shelves all around! Let's go!”

“What about the tea?”

“The tea!” Castiel looks suitably chastened, “I forgot the tea. Shame on me!” Then he laughs, delighted by his accidental rhyming.

Dean sighs, he recognizes the feeling in his stomach. Butterflies, excitement, apprehension, fondness. He's fucked.

 

Dean is kicking himself. He's too goddamn old for a crush, this sort of thing is for high school and he's well out of it. He shouldn't have to deal with it.

And yet.

Castiel's apartment looks like the home and garden section of a hardware store exploded. Located, somehow, above the shop, in the opposite direction of the Furniture Room, it's a riot of color. There are plants everywhere, hanging suspended from the ceiling, on end tables and chairs and the floor, floating mysteriously at heights designed to knock into as many unsuspecting heads as possible. Crystals too, lie every place. Many of them sit in ways and places that seem deliberate, but Dean can't parse any meaning out of them at all.

Bookshelves line the walls, heavy with tomes new and old, fiction and occult. Statuettes are crowded in among them like bookends, guards keeping watch over their charges. The whole place smells a little smokey, like incense, but sweet.

There are a few small end tables around with mysterious stuff crowded on top, and when Dean gets a closer look he suspects they might be alters. Crystals surrounding a bowl of fruit, small animal skulls and herbs around a crystal grid. They're completely mysterious, but Dean finds himself entranced by them. They're beautiful.

“Okay,” Says Castiel, “This is the one.”

He's sitting cross-legged on the floor next to a pair of sliding glass doors that look out onto a terrace that's absolutely _packed_ with plants. In front of him is a pile of boards and an empty space on the wall.

Dean sits down next to him, drawn into the smell of lavender and sage.

“There's instructions.” Castiel offers, “I just... have a hard time making sense of these things.”

Dean picks up the paper instructions and looks them over, they seem fairly straight-forward.

“Alright, yeah. We can do this, no problem.”

It takes them much longer then anticipated. Firstly, Castiel is almost no help at all. He keeps getting distracted by tea, birds and butterflies and, most notably, bees on the terrace, plants and books and, well, just about everything. He'll start to help and then stop to tell Dean a story about one of the crystals on his shelf. The worst part is, Dean isn't even mad about it. He's having fun, and Castiel's excitement is contagious. He _wants_ to hear what kind of butterfly that is, he _wants_ to hear what deity this alter is for. He wants to hear everything Castiel has to say.

Which brings up the second point quite harshly, Dean is absolutely smitten. He himself is constantly getting distracted watching Castiel's lips, watching a butterfly land trustingly on the back of his hand, watching him bite his finger when he's trying not to laugh. He's hypnotized by Castiel's closeness to him, the warmth of his flesh beneath those garish pants. He can feel his fingers twitching, wanting to touch. He's startled by how much he finds he wants to kiss Castiel.

“So.” Says Castiel, quite suddenly, “Tell me, Dean Winchester, who are you?”

“What do you mean?”

Castiel grins broadly and pokes him in the arm. “I _mean_ , what makes you tick? Hmm? What do you like to do? What are your dreams?”

“That's a lot to lay on a guy, you know?”

“I know. I always ask too much. But only when I want to know a person.”

“Uh,” Dean says, looking away briefly to hide his blush, “I'm twenty-six. I, uh, I do bookkeeping. I'm pretty good with numbers. I like... Die Hard, muscle cars, sushi.”

“Yes?”

“Uh, blue, I guess? I listen to a lot of classic rock, but I like a lot of other stuff too.”

It's boring. He sounds boring. He stares down at his hands, picking nervously at his cuticles, wishing he were more interesting, wishing there was more beneath the surface.

“Why does your brother live with you?”

Dean's head jerks up, he catches Castiel's eyes with his own. To be honest, he hadn’t been expecting that question. It's one he likes to avoid. But, he supposes, it'll get out eventually.

Dean leans back on his hands and takes a deep breath. “It's kind of a long story.”

“I have time.”

“Well, um,” He wets his lips and wills himself to relax, “Our dad died.”  
  
Castiel stills, hands coming to clasp each other.

“It was, uh, just about seven months ago. He's- was- the only family we had left. Our mom has been gone a long time, not that it's any easier, but, you know.”

Castiel nods quickly, face as solemn as Dean as ever seen it.

“So yeah, Dad died. He was driving drunk, the bastard, went headfirst into a tree. Dead on impact. He was- wasn't the best dad, honestly. I knew it, we all did. Mom's death just broke him, I think. He was drunk most of the time. Anyway, I guess my point is, him and Sam didn't get along. Like, at all. They had a big fight when Sam went to Stanford and they just didn't talk at all after that. That was four years ago.

"And then Dad died and, uh,” Dean shakes his head, “It just broke Sam. I mean- they didn't get along, but it was still his dad, who he hadn't talked to in four years. So he's at college just fucking blaming himself and drowning in guilt. He had a mental breakdown, stopped eating, dropped out.

I just- I didn't think he needed to be on his own, you know? So he lived with me for a while in California, but it was just too much. Everything reminded him of Dad. So we, uh, came here.

Yeah, I guess that's about it.”

“I'm _so_ sorry.” Says Castiel, looking close to tears.

Dean shakes his head and brushes his own tears away with the back of his hand. It hurts, obviously, but it happened. “It is what it is.”

“I'm just-” Castiel stops, voiced thick with emotion, and wipes at his eyes, “I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm sorry you had to lose your parents, I know how hard that is. And I- I think it's amazing that you'd do all this for your brother.”

“He's my brother,” Dean says by way of explanation. He loves Sam, what other option was there?

“Still.” Says Castiel, reaching out to lay a hand on Dean's arm. Then he changes his mind and holds out his arms, “May I?”

Dean almost laughs, “Yeah man, knock yourself out.”

Castiel hugs him. It's a good hug, warm and firm, arms wrapped all the way around Dean's middle, head tucked into Dean's shoulder. He hinds himself leaning into it, wrapping his arms around Castiel in turn. He's a solid thing, here in Dean's world of uncertainty.

 

 

Sam 

 

It's noon, and Sam is still in his pajamas. So far, he hasn't been able to figure out if this is good or not. On one hand, pajamas are comfortable, the couch is nice, tv is good. On the other hand, he feels a little bit like a slob. He remembers Stanford, when he would get up before the sun to go running. Of course, that was before the mental breakdown and the depression and what may have been an eating disorder. Nowadays, he does good to get out of the house.

He needs a job, he thinks, peering out the kitchen window at the stag beast, still standing stonily at the edge of the woods. He needs to be able to contribute, to carry his own weight, not be such a leech. It might help to have a little spending money too.

Right now, though, the thought of going through the application process and then interviewing somewhere leaves him nauseous. He's not sure he's up for it. Of course, he's not up for much of anything anymore.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes. He pulls it out, surprised, to find a text.

 

_[From: unknown]_

_[ wyd?]_

 

_[From: Sam Winchester]_

_[ Who is this?]_

 

_[From: unknown]_

_[ its gabe! U wanna hang out??]_

 

_[From: Sam Winchester]_

_[ I'm just watching cooking shows]_

 

_[From: Gabriel]_

_[ chill. I get off work in like 15 ill be over after]_

 

_[From: Sam Winchester]_

_[ k ]_

 

The good thing about having people over is that it forces Sam to act like a normal person and take a shower. So he quickly washes the depression-funk off of his skin and puts on jeans and a clean t-shirt. He takes some dishes to the sink and sprays everything with fabreeze. Emmie is not impressed.

The knock on the door comes sooner than he expected, but when he opens it, there's Gabriel. He's not wearing work clothes, but he looks tired.

Sam swings the door open for him and Gabriel comes in like he owns the place. He's wearing a pastel-pink Sailor Moon shirt, jeans, and his hair is pulled back into a bun. He's carrying a book bag with small birds all over it, he smells like strawberry.

“Good morning, sportsfans!” He shouts, tossing his bag onto the couch and following it directly.

“I'm not really a sports fan.” Sam admits, folding himself back onto his corner of the couch.

“Me neither.” Says Gabriel, “Hockey's okay, but I just get bored of the other ones.”

“Have you ever seen roller derby?”

“Is that the one with the skates?”

“Yeah, it's pretty sweet. They all wear hot-pants and cool tights and they skate really fast. It's the only thing I’ll watch.”

“I love hot-pants! Do they fight?”

“Sometimes. There's a lot of accidents because they're skating, like, really fucking fast. So if they crash they can get really hurt.”

Gabriel grins and pokes Sam in the thigh with his toe. “Look at you, knowing _things_ about a _sport_.”

“Yeah, it's really impressive.” Sam snorts.

“How'd you get into it.”

Sam shrugs, “Just, kept hearing things about it.” He doesn't tell Gabriel that it was introduced to him by an ex, he doesn't want to talk about Brady and he doesn't want to talk about his sexuality. He doesn't think Gabriel will judge him, but he doesn't _really_ know Gabriel that well.

There's a long silence, until Gabriel asks, “You have any popcorn?”

Gabriel puts chocolate syrup on his popcorn. It's one of the grossest things Sam has ever seen, Gabriel's fingers and lips are sticky and salty and chocolatey. It's equal parts revolting and inviting. Sam throws a wash-cloth at him. On his way back from washing his hands in the kitchen sink, Gabriel catches sight of the stag.

“That thing is so fucking creepy.” He says, falling back onto the couch next to Sam.

“Is that not normal, for here? I would have thought that sort of thing happens all the time.”

“What, mutant deer? No way. That's way creepy, dude.”

“Yeah. It's actually really freaking me out.”

“You wanna go look at it?”

“No!”

“Okay.” They're quiet again, and then, “You wanna go somewhere else?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let's do that.”

 

They finds Jess at Underfoot, a small cafe on a street just off main, chugging coffee and tapping violently at the keys of her laptop.

“Hey, Jessica Alba!” Gabriel greets her, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Gabi.” She acknowledges him, not looking up from her computer, “Sam. Give me a minute I’m just- I’m almost done.”

Sam takes the seat kitty-corner to both of them, and they wait a minute for Jess to finish whatever it is she's working on. Finally, she heaves a sigh and leans back in her seat stretching her arms above her head.

“Okay. I'm here. Sorry.”

She's wearing another crop-top, this time with an elephant on the front. Rolled-up jean shorts, a plaid jacket tied around her waist, and hiking boots completer her attire. Her hair is piled atop her head, held in place by some combination of pins and magic.

“I love your look today.” Says Gabriel, “Classic.”

“Thanks,” She smiles and gives him a once over, “Nice shirt, very cute.”

Sam suddenly feels incredibly under-dressed. “So, um, what are you doing?”

“Writing.” Says Jess.

“She's writing a crime thriller.” Says Gabriel.

“I don't know.” Jess sighs, “I might never get it done. I have to keep re-writing and re-doing the plot and nothing makes sense.”

“Let me buy you a doughnut, and everything will be fine.”

Gabriel traipses off to the counter, leaving Jess to turn her eyes toward Sam.

“What are you guys up to?”

“Not much. We watched tv for a while, but that weird-ass stag is still there, so we wanted to be... far away from it.”

“Still?”  
  
“Yeah.”

Jess frowns, eyebrows furrowing. She seems to be chewing on her tongue.

“You okay?” Sam asks.

“Huh? Yeah. Yeah.”

“Here you go.” Says Gabriel, setting a pink frosted doughnut in front of her, “The cure to everything.”

He's back in his seat, smiling happily, before he notices Jess' perturbed expression.

“What's wrong?”

Jess looks at him, then at Sam. “I don't know.” She says, “I don't know. But... I think _something_ is.”

“Babe, you're not making any sense.”

Jess closes her laptop with a loud and final snap. The music playing from tinny speakers in the ceiling seems to quiet.

“I think something's wrong with the town.” She says, quietly.

“Why would you say that?” Gabriel is frowning now too.

“That stag isn't the only weird thing I’ve seen lately.”

Sam can't help but lean forward, elbow resting on the table, “What else have you seen?”

 

The United Church of Apollo sits behind the movie theater, abandoned. Its yard is overgrown with grass and weeds and small trees, its sign is crumbling, its paint chipping. There's a chain-link fence surrounding the property, closed and padlocked tight. It's not high, but its high enough to deter most people. Jess climbs it and jumps to the other side before the others have time to react.

“You can _not_ be serious.” Says Gabriel.

“Way serious.” Says Jess.

“I'll help you up,” Sam offers, “I'll give you a boost, come on.”

Gabriel gives one more sad little whine, but then lets himself be manhandled up the side of the fence. Once he gets to the top, though, more problems arise.

“You guys.” He says, voice tight with panic, “This is too high. This is way too high, I can't do this.”

Jess frowns, irritated, “Just jump!”

“I can't!”

“Okay, alright,” Sam says, “Let's all calm down. I'm going to come up, okay Gabe?”

Gabriel nods, eyes closed tight.

Sam climbs the fence easily, and sits astride the top next to Gabriel, who looks awfully close to fainting.

“Okay, what do you want to do here?”

“I don't know.” Gabriel says weakly, “I don't know. I just want to be down now. Please.”

“What if I jump down, and then you jump and I catch you?”

“I don't think I can do it.”

“Gabe, hey,” Sam reaches out and brushes some sweat-damp hair out of Gabriel's face, “The only way down is _down_ , man. It'll only be scary for a second, and then I’ll have you. Okay?”

Gabriel's lip trembles, but he nods. “Okay. I guess. Okay. But I can't do this again.”

“We'll find a different way out.” Sam promises, “Now, okay, you've got to get your leg over.”

“I'll _fall_!” Gabriel wails.

“No way. I've got you.” Sam grips Gabriel's arm, “I won't let you fall.”

Slowly, he helps Gabriel get both legs on one side of the gate. Then he jumps down to where Jess is waiting and holds out his arms.

“Okay, go ahead and jump.”

“If you don't catch me I’ll never forgive you!” Gabriel swears.

“I know.”

Gabriel jumps. It's only a half a second, but Gabriel's fear is palpable. But then he's landing in Sam's arms, clinging like a limpet and burying his face in Sam's chest.

“I hate you guys.” He says.

“Obviously.” Says Jess, coming up to hug him from behind. She presses a kiss to his temple, expression softened temporarily by the want to comfort her friend.

After much coaxing and back stroking, Gabriel is finally ready to go again, albeit a bit wobbly. Together, the three of them make their way through the overgrown yard, stamping on grass and plants. They climb the crumbling front steps and push open the door, which isn't locked. Honestly, Sam is surprised it hasn't rotten away, but upon further inspection  he finds what looks like very fine glitter on the door. He suspects fairies.

“Okay,” Says Jess, as they enter the foyer, “I come here all the time when I want to be by myself. It has _never_ looked like this before.”

“Like what?” Sam wonders, eying the cobwebs hanging thick and dark from the ceiling.

“Like _that._ ”

Sam looks down, and into an enormous hole that's swallowing the lower floor of the church.

“Well. That's not normal.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Jody is a harpy  
> \- Jo is an elf  
> \- Eric is a nymph and his hair is, in fact, hyacinth flowers  
> \- claire is a witch  
> \- if you didn't guess, Jody is married to Donna
> 
> [Gabe's Sailor Moon shirt](https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/404990-pretty-soldier-sailor-moon-pink)  
> (sometimes gabriel shops at hot topic)
> 
> [Jess' outfit](http://outfit-of-the-day-girls.tumblr.com/post/158349599210)
> 
> [p.s. gabriel also owns these tights](http://www.hottopic.com/product/sailor-moon-luna-faux-thigh-high-tights/10746305.html?cgid=pop-culture-shop-by-license-sailor-moon)
> 
> And, because I'm a crazy person, i've been making moodboards  
> [Sam](http://everythingbagels.tumblr.com/post/158147020787/sam-winchester-in-silence-falls-in-an-attempt-to)  
> [Gabe](http://everythingbagels.tumblr.com/post/158153285205/gabriel-in-silence-falls-in-an-attempt-to-hide)  
> [Jess](http://everythingbagels.tumblr.com/post/158161246178/jessica-moore-in-silence-falls-in-an-attempt-to)  
> [Jess (n. 2)](http://everythingbagels.tumblr.com/post/158139817559/jess-moore-in-silence-falls-in-an-attempt-to-hide)  
> [cas](http://everythingbagels.tumblr.com/post/158390674859/castiel-in-silence-falls-in-an-attempt-to-hide)  
> [dean](http://everythingbagels.tumblr.com/post/158391103764/dean-in-silence-falls-in-an-attempt-to-hide-from)
> 
>  
> 
> I wish I could draw, I would draw all my babies in their cool outfits


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> \- sam has a crush  
> \- sam finds a cat  
> \- Mystery Club  
> \- dean also has a crush  
> \- cas' giant floppy hat  
> \- ust  
> \- too much blushing  
> \- almost kisses
> 
> Ages:  
> so I feel like i just need to clear up some people's ages here.  
> Castiel - 32  
> Dean - 26  
> Jess - 23  
> Sam - 22  
> Gabriel - 21
> 
> So, regarding the trio, Gabe is actually the youngest and jess is the oldest.

Sam

 

It's a bit hard to explain the hole in the floor of The United Church of Apollo. _Hole_ isn't really the right word even, although _black hole_ doesn't seem quite right either. It's a pit, for sure, right in the middle of the sanctuary, cutting pews and the pulpit in half. It's huge, but Sam, leaning over the side, can't see the bottom. Come to think of it, he can't see the sides either, although it shouldn't be possible. There's just a deep, dark blackness. An absence of... anything.

“How far down does it go?” He asks, taking a step back. He has the feeling that it'll suck him in if it gets the chance.

“I don't think it ends.” Says Jess. She's standing a little further back, while Gabriel clings to the wall by the front door.

“It has to have a bottom.” Sam insists.

Jess gives him a skeptical look.

“Well...” Sam reevaluates, “Where do you think it goes?”

Jess shrugs, throwing her hands out with abandon. “Maybe it goes to Hell.” She suggests.

“You think that pit goes to Justin Beiber's closet?” Asks Gabriel.

Jess rolls her eyes.

“Don't ignore me!” Gabriel whines.

“When did it show up?”

“Couple weeks ago.”

“You didn't tell anybody?”

“I'm not exactly allowed to be here, in case the locked gate didn't tip you off.”

Together, they look down into the hole.

“I mean, should we throw something down it?” Sam wonders.

“There's nothing down there, I told you. I've thrown all sorts of things down. I've never heard anything hit the bottom.”

Sam thinks. Beside him, Jess shifts uneasily.

“You think this has something to do with the stag?” He asks, finally.

“Maybe. Maybe not. It's just- this is a weird town, you know? But there's weird and then there's _weird_ , and this is _weird_ , just like that stag.”

Sam squats down to examine the edges of the pit, clean and smooth as if it had been made by machinery. “Interesting.” He says. He feels like he's caught the edge of something, like something's going on and he doesn't _really_ know, but he feels it. He feels in his gut that there's something here, that these are more than two strange things in a strange town, but occurrences deeper, and darker than that.

He stands up, he takes a deep breath, he puts his hands on his hips. At this moment, he feels better than he has in a very long time. At this moment, he's not an orphan who lives with his brother. He's not a college dropout with depression that he hides behind a smile and anxious eyes that he hides behind his floppy hair. He's not someone who struggled – sometimes still struggles – with an eating disorder. He's Sam, and he's on a Mission.

“I think I’m going to look into this.” He announces. He's not sure what he expects the others to say. Maybe he expects them to mock him, or dismiss him, tell him that he's paranoid.

“Count me in.” Says Jess, looking him determinedly in the eye.

Sam is surprised, and not a small amount, but something in him steadies at the look in her eye. He gets the feeling that when she decides to do something, she does it all that way, and that's supremely comforting. She's a rock where he needs one, strong and determined.

“If you guys leave me out of your mystery adventure I’m divorcing both of you.” Says Gabriel.

 

They've elected Underfoot as their designated headquarters. Jess thinks its never ending supply of coffee and pastries will be an asset, while Gabriel thinks that, “ _All mystery solving teams need a coffee house”_. Sam himself enjoys the atmosphere; the dim lights, the soft chairs, and the steady whir of the myriad coffee makers and various other drink machines lend a conspiratory air to the whole thing. Truth be told, there are few things Sam loves more than a good conspiratory air.

Jess has her laptop out on the table, a word document open, with a very short list.

  * Weird-ass stag

  * hole in the church




 

“I feel like we should be using a notebook.” Says Sam.

“That's just because you're old fashioned.” Jess informs him.

Sam protests, “I'm not old fashioned.”

“It's okay. You're like, group dad.”

“Ugh.” Gabriel grimaces, “You couldn't have phrased that differently?”

“Hmm, what's the problem with my phrasing, Gabriel?”

They share a long look that Sam can't quite decipher. A whole conversation with their eyes that Sam isn't privy too, but he understands that they've known each other for a long time, there are some things he can't be a part of.

“I think it would be easier to carry around.” Sam says.

“It's a small computer. Anyway, I have a book bag.”

Sam grumbles a little, but really it doesn't matter so much. What matters is what they do next and, unfortunately, they're stumped in that area. What can they do, really? They're not _really_ detectives, and this is a new experience for all of them.

Help does come eventually in the form of Josie, a ghost who haunts Underfoot, and sometimes runs the register.

“What are you kids up to?” She wonders, sliding up behind Jess.

“Looking into weird things that have been happening around town.” Jess tells her.

“Weird things?” Josie tips her head to the side and hums thoughtfully, “Like the Hedwell House?”

“What's the Hedwell House?” He asks.

Jess waves him off, “An abandoned house, nothing new.”

But to Sam, it bears that ring of mystery that draws him in. “I want to see it.” He says, “Can we check it out?”

The Hedwell House is on the edge of town, just past the border that separates one county from the next. At the end of a long dirt road, surrounded by fields full of wildflowers, it casts a beautiful picture. In the distance, Sam can see another house, which Jess helpfully tells him is Wells Bed and Breakfast, and that he should stay as far away from that damned place as possible.

The Hedwell House is as much a classic old farmhouse as he's ever seen, big and white and clean, with a wraparound porch and neat shuttered windows. It doesn't look abandoned, it looks cared for.

“Are you sure someone doesn't live here?”

This time, it's Gabriel that speaks up.

“No one's lived here in seventy years.”

“Someone takes care of the property?”

“Nope.”

“That can't be right.”

“Wait until you see the inside.”

They make their way across the yard, Jess and Gabriel with loose, confident steps, Sam carefully, afraid that at any moment someone might burst from the trees and demand to know what they're doing.

Up close, the house looks just as nice as it did from afar, the paint isn't peeled, the stairs don't creak. A white porch swing drifts back and forth on a nonexistent breeze.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees Gabriel shudder.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

Gabriel nods quickly, “Just gives me the creeps.”

Sam looks at him, hesitates for a moment, then offers his hand. Gabriel takes it, looking very stunned and a little elated. Sam offers his other hand to Jess, who grins at him and grasps it tight.

“Come on,” She says.

She opens the door easily, it isn't locked, and they step inside.

Despite the outside, Sam expects, well, a house that's been empty for seventy years. Musty smells, dust, bugs and rodents. Instead, it's immaculate. There's not a speck of dust on anything, it smells fresh, and it's still completely furnished. Furniture from decades ago sits on dark wood floors, a clock ticks happily on the wall, pictures line the mantel.

“Someone's _living here_!” Sam insists.

“It always look like this.” Jess assures him with a toss of her hair.

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Hello,” Sam calls out, despite her insistence that the place is empty, he can't imagine it. It feels lived in. Nevertheless, no one answers.

“This is it, really,” Jess tells him, sounding bored.

“I'm gonna go jump on a bed!” Gabriel announces with a wicked grin before sprinting up the stairs.

“Gabriel, _do not!_ ” Jess shouts, running after.

Sam is left alone in the hall of this empty house, an odd weight on his chest. He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment, about this town and the things he's learned about it. Why would this house still look so pristine? Is it magic? Why does he feel like there's someone here when there clearly isn't? A ghost, maybe. He feels in his bones that this house isn't what they're looking for, but there's definitely something odd about it.

Idly, he walks into the kitchen. It's painted a pale blue, the counter-tops are plain, but they look new. Nothing in here looks touched, or like its stood the ravages of time. He's reaching out to touch the counter-top when he hears a soft sound behind him. A muted thump.

He turns, and finds himself looking at a cat, sitting in the doorway. Pitch black from the tip of its tale to the tops of its ears, it sits there, eyes closed.

Sam makes a quiet clucking sound, “Hey, kitty.” He says gently.

It opens its eyes, all six of them.

There's a long moment of weighted silence while Sam's brain catches up to what it's seeing, realizes that this cat has a few eyes too many and doesn't seem terribly perturbed by it at all.

“mrow” Says the cat, sharp teeth peeking out from its mouth.

Sam lurches backward, cursing, then tripping over a stool and cursing more. Lying on his back, Sam experiences a moment of profound panic as the cat walks over and puts its face very close to his. He's sure, _sure_ , that it will open its mouth and devour him whole.

Instead, it starts to rub its head against his chin, purring happily, then promptly decides to try and fit it's entire face up his nose.

Sam huffs, torn between feeling afraid and endeared, and ends up feeling fond almost entirely on accident. He reaches up tentatively to rub his fingers over the cat's head, and it quickly pushes into his touch, mewing happily.

“Hey there, fella.” Says Sam, shock and awe making his hand tremble, “Hey. You- you here all by yourself?”

The cat meows again, and this time it definitely sounds mournful, as if to say _yes, of course the cat has been by itself, and would very much like scratchies now, please and thank you_. Sam obliges, the panic slowly loosening in his chest as he pets the cat and is rewarded with much purring and licking of his nose. This goes on for several long minutes, until he hears heavy footsteps on the stairs.

Gabriel and Jess round the corner into the kitchen to find him sprawled out on the floor with a cat on his chest.

“What in the fuck?” Says Gabriel.

The cat turns to him and blinks its six piercing eyes.

“ _What in the fuck?!_ ” Says Gabriel, in a much higher tone.

“Calm _down_ , Gabriel,” Says Jess, as though she's not looking distinctly unnerved as well, “It's just a cat.”

“You say that, but it has a lot of goddamn eyes for a cat!”

“It can't help how many eyes it has.”

“What does it need six eyes for, huh? What the hell does it need to see so badly that it needs six goddamn eyes?”

“Hey guys,” Sam says calmly, the cat seems to be distressed by their yelling, “I think it's fine. She seems okay.”

“She?”

“Well, I don't see any balls, so,” He shrugs.

“Fair enough.” Says Jess.

The trio ends up spending several hours at the Hedwell House, not finding anything of import, but instead playing with the cat, who seems to have been left alone for a long time. She enjoys head scratches, soft laps, and chasing small items on the floor. Gabriel has been trying to tempt her with scraps of ribbon from his pockets, but she returns inevitably to Sam's lap

“Do you think it would be stealing if I took the cat home?” He wonders aloud.

“I don't think anyone owns her.” Jess says, proudly.

“I've always wanted a cat.” Says Sam.

Gabriel frowns. “How many eyes did you imagine it having?”

Sam looks at the cat on his lap, purring happily. “She's a good cat. Who cares how many eyes she has?”

“What if she's an otherworldly creature who eats humans and is only _pretending_ to be a cat?”

Sam lifts the cat gently up to his eye height, “Are you?” He asks, “Are you going to eat me?”

“Mrow.” Says the cat.

“She said no.” Sam declares.

“Oh, you bastard, you don't know _what_ she said!” Gabriel insists.

“Oh, Dean's just gonna _love_ you.” Sam coos, scratching her nose.

 

Dean does not love the cat, whom Sam has named Arti. It's not that he doesn't like cats, he says, but has a fundamental distrust of anything with more than two eyes.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam pleads, “Please? You won't even know she's here.”

“Like hell I won't.” Says Dean, currently sprawled out on the couch watching Kitchen Nightmares. He smells like incense, which Sam reminds himself to ask about later.

Sam readjusts the squirming Arti in his arms and gives his brother the saddest look he can muster, “She was in there all alone, Dean. I can't just put her back. She can be, like, a therapy cat.”

Sam watches his brother's fingers twitch on the arm of the couch, can practically hear him thinking. When Dean finally heaves a sigh, Sam isn't surprised.

“I'm not buying the cat food.” Says Dean.

“Okay.”

“Or litter. And I’m not changing a litter box.”

“Course.”

“And if she makes a mess, I’m not cleaning it up.”

“I'll get a job. I was going to start applying anyway. You won't even know she's here, I swear.” Sam lowers her slowly to the ground, where she begins to look around her new surroundings.

“Yeah, fine. Fine. But if that thing turns out to be an Eldritch Horror and eats us in our sleep...”

“You told me so?”

“I told you so.”

“Can I borrow the car? I want to go buy her some stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean mutters, resigned, as the cat jumps up onto the couch and starts to purr and headbutt his leg.

 

The next day dawns cloudy, as usual. The sky rumbles, threatening rain, and Sam sets out to find a job. He feels guilty, in all honesty, that he hasn't been pulling his weight as much as he'd like. Dean's been paying for everything, Dean does the cleaning, Dean does the cooking. Sam could argue that he's been depressed for a long time now, but that doesn't really make him feel any better about it.

So it's time to get a job, at the very least, time to start paying his brother back.

He puts in applications at every shop on Main Street, as well as the theater, the gas station, Fangfyre, Underfoot, and the little public pool. He skips the library, because, against all odds, it gives him the creeps. He fills out applications until his hands are cramped and his head is pounding. He feels anxious and exhausted, ready to lay down on the ground and take a nap right there. Instead, he texts Gabriel.

 

“Okay,” Says Jess, stuffing half a cream-cheese danish into her mouth, the rest of her words are garbled beyond recognition.

“I'm sorry, what?”

Jess chews, “I _said_ , what about the lighthouse?”

Sam and Gabriel exchange a look. “What are we talking about?” Asks Gabriel.

“Our _mystery!_ ” Jess cries, exasperated, “I think we should go to the lighthouse next.”

“Hedwell House was a bust.” Gabriel reminds her, “What if there's really nothing going on and we're going around breaking into houses and stealing cats?”

“Come on, it's the lighthouse. Like you don't want an excuse to go anyway.”

“Why the lighthouse?” Says Sam.

You can see it from town, standing tall and mysterious on a cliff overlooking the beach. Its silhouette is grandiose, but he's never been up there.

“We can talk to the lighthouse keeper.” Jess explains, adventurous gleam in her eye, “She watches the Gate. She'd know if something came through.”

Gabriel's eyes widen, “You think something came through the Gate?”

Jess shrugs, “Seems likely. Why not check?”

 

Sam feels like a creep walking behind Jess and Gabe as they walk to the lighthouse, but he likes to look at them. He likes to be able to take the time and watch the way they move, walk, talk.

Gabriel wears torn up jeans, rolled up his shins, white sneakers, and a soft gray shirt that reads, _my head says gym but my heart says pizza._

Jess, in contrast, wears a flower-print dress with long sleeves and a short hemline. Gray, high-heeled suede boots come all the way to her thighs and a wide-brimmed black hat sits atop her golden curls.

They're beautiful, Sam can't help thinking, the both of them. They shouldn’t go together, really, their looks, their personalities, but it works. Like a yin and yang, maybe, or salty and sweet. They compliment each other. Sam has known them for no time at all and already he feels the thread of his life entwining with theirs.

On the other hand, having a crush on two people at once is turning out to be exhausting, especially when they're usually together. Sam's heart is always pounding, his hands constantly clammy. He keeps looking at lips and thighs and, yeah, butts, and is constantly almost getting caught. He can feel his already speeding heart leap every time one of them smiles at him or does something cute.

It's hell, and he's dragging himself through it happily.

Jess tosses her hair, “Come on!” She says, “It's just up there! You two can't possibly be tired already.”

Gabriel wheezes and slows down a little to walk next to Sam. “Carry me?”

Sam snorts. “Yeah, that's totally gonna happen. We'll both fall down the hill and break our necks.”

“If we're dead we won't have to walk up this damn hill.” Gabriel considers.

Sam laughs, and Gabriel grins at him, looking immensely pleased. He rakes a hand through his long hair and Sam has the urge to reach out and do the same, to press his fingers to Gabriel's bare neck. He looks away, but is met instead with the vision of Jess wading through the tall grass, a hand on her hat as the strong wind tries to take it, tossing her hair and her skirt. Her face is set in a determined grin, looking ahead.

The lighthouse looms nearer and nearer as they ascend the hillside of the cliff, and soon a door can be seen. Jess sprints ahead, while Gabriel and Sam continue at their sedate pace.

Jess waits until they're within arm's reach to ring the doorbell that sits nestled beside the door.

They wait... nothing happens.

Jess rings the doorbell again, and again, no one comes to the door.

“Maybe no one's home.” Sam suggests.

“Of course she's home.” Jess insists, “She's always home.

She raises her fist and bangs on the door, “Open up, Hael! I know you're in there!”

But no one comes.

Jess squints suspiciously at the door. “Weird.” She says.

“Did we walk all the way up this big-ass hill for nothing?” Asks Gabriel.

Jess, still frowning at the building, starts to stalk off along its circumference, examining the walls like she's going to find something.

“Maybe she's in the bathroom?” Gabriel suggests.

They follow Jess as she walks around the building, knocking on the wall and peering critically into the mists that have begun to settle near the ground. Then suddenly, she stops short.

“What is it?” Gabriel wonders.

“Shh.” Says Jess, holding up one hand.

They listen.

Sam doesn’t hear anything, and by the look on his face, neither does Gabriel. Jess takes a step forward, squinting into the middle distance. Then, very suddenly, she darts off.

Sam and Gabriel share a panicked look before running after her, into the long grass and the obscuring mist that makes Sam feel like he's lost on a moor instead of atop a hill. He almost trips over Jess when he finds her again, kneeling on the ground next to a body of a girl, dark headed and much too pale.

“Oh, shit.” He says.

“I think she's alive.” Jess presses two fingers against the pulse point of the girl's throat, “Gabriel, help me!”

“What? What do I do?” He drops to the ground next to Jess, looking terrified.

“Just- give her a boost!”

“A boost?”

“A boost!”

“I don't know CPR!”

“With _magic_!”

“Jess, you know I’m not _good!_ ”

“Just try!”

Gabriel looks like he might cry, or be sick, maybe both. He swallows and cups his hands in front of him, closing his eyes and scrunching up his face. Slowly, a small blue light builds, but it's only about the size of a pin before a gust of wind knocks it out of Gabriel's hands. He's devastated, his face falls, and Sam can see that whatever happens to this girl, Gabriel will be blaming himself.

Sam comes to ground beside Gabriel. He can't say why, what makes him do it, or even what he's thinking. Driven by instinct, some thought process he can't comprehend, he leans forward and presses one hand to the middle of Gabriel's chest, and his other in the middle of Gabriel's back. He closes his eyes, and _feels_.

Gabriel gasps, his palms begin to glow, blue light growing rapidly from pinprick to grape to baseball. He turns his palms down and presses them against the woman's chest.

She wakes, sitting upright at a supernatural speed and screaming at the top of her lungs. Naturally, everyone else screams too. There are several long seconds of screaming before everyone realizes, quite at once, that they needn't be.

“Who are you?” Says Hael.

“We came to talk to you!" Jess shouts, panicked, You weren't inside!”

Hael stares at her. She blinks. She looks up.

Sam, Gabriel, and Jess follow her gaze up, up, up to a window near the top of the lighthouse, hanging open. Its shutters swing with the breeze.

“I... must have... tripped.” Says Hael, staring up confusedly.

“Did you?” Gabriel wonders, cradling his hands close to his chest.

“I... I don't remember.”

“I'm calling 911.” Jess announces, springing to her feet and striding several yards away so she can call in peace.

“You don't remember?” She should be dead, Sam thinks. A fall from that height surely would have killed her, wouldn't it?

Hael looks down at herself, at her plain shirt and jeans, now mud-splattered and soaked. She stares at her hands.

“I... I remember... a vision...”

“A vision?”

“It came to me. I was... leaning out the window, calling to the birds... and the vision came.” Realization dawns on her face, “That's why I fell.”

“What vision?” Gabriel wonders.

“There was... a great maw...” She whispers, drawing her arms around her body as if she finally notices the chill in the air, “Full of sharp teeth. Dripping with blood and saliva and entrails.”

“So... would you say that's a _bad_ omen? Or a good one?” Gabriel asks. Sam elbows him in the side.

“It was closing,” Hael continues, “closing around the town. The Mayor's office. He was... devoured. She had devoured Him.”

“Sorry, who? Who devoured what?”

Hael turns her head to look at Sam with wide eyes, and says no more.

 

Silence doesn't have a hospital. It's much too small, and its residents are forced instead to drive a half hour to Hemway General in Iscoth. The human staffers and patients never quite seem to see the things that set their neighbors from Silence apart, whether it's magic, or simple disbelief, no one can say.

The waiting room seems full, although there's really only a handful of people around. The buzzing of the overhead lights is starting to grate on Sam. Combined with his exhaustion, the rigorous questioning he's just had from the sheriff, and his crashing adrenaline, he's not feeling so great. It's the music that finally does it. Playing very quietly from tinny overhead speakers, just loud enough to hear that it's music, but not enough to tell what it is. It makes him anxious, his stomach starts to churn, his skin feels too tight.

“Hey,” Says Jess, from the seat to his right.

“Huh?”

She looks at him for a moment, like somehow she knows just what's bothering him. She pulls out her phone from a hidden pocket in her dress, with a pair of pink ear buds wrapped around it. She unlocks it, does some things he can't see, and then pops the buds into his ears.

“Relax.” She says.

Soft music washes over him, gentle, clear, calming. He lets himself relax. On his other side, Gabriel sets a hesitant hand on Sam's leg, palm up. Sam takes it, twining their fingers together and letting their palms rest against each other. Gabriel's skin is soft, the inside of his wrist is dotted with freckles. On the other side, Jess rests her head on Sam's shoulder. She smells like coconuts and sun.

 

 

Dean

 

Dean remembers what it was like when Dad died, getting that call from the police. He remembers it vividly, that sickening falling feeling, the shock, the fear.

This is nothing like that. He tells himself over and over that this is nothing like that. He keeps repeating it, why doesn't it make him feel any better?

“Sam is fine, Dean.” Castiel tells him from the driver's seat, “They're all fine. They only went to the hospital with Hael, they're perfectly fine.”

Dean nods quickly, wishing he weren't such a panicky mess. He _knows_ that Sam is fine, but getting the call that he should come pick his brother up from the hospital... it had been too similar. Thankfully, Cas got the same call and offered to drive them. There's no way Dean would have been able to drive himself.

Castiel doesn't seem to like driving the impala, but his own car is some tiny weird-shaped hybrid and there's no way they were getting everyone in there, so the impala it is, and Dean just hopes to heaven that Castiel doesn't hit anything.

“Dean,” Castiel says, reaching over with his free hand to press his fingers against Dean's knee, “are you calm?”

“I'm calm.”

“Are you lying?”

Dean frowns, petulantly, “No.”

“Everyone is fine. I promise.”

Dean takes a deep breath and forces himself to watch the road outside the car, “I know.”

Castiel gives Dean's knee a gentle squeeze, “Breathe.”

“I'm breathin'.” Dean insists.

“Do you want to listen to some music?”

“I'm okay, I'm alright. I just- yeah. Yeah, I'm okay.”

This time, apparently, Castiel believes him. He leaves his hand on Dean's knee.

Hemway General Hospital is a nice enough place, but it turns Dean's stomach. He can't stand hospitals anymore. He's afraid he'll find Sam having a panic attack, but when he and Castiel round the corner to the waiting room, he finds his brother practically asleep with a friend on either side of him. He looks peaceful, and something inside Dean relaxes.

Sheriff Mills-Hanscum spots them from across the room and makes her way over.

“Castiel,” She greets them, “Mr. Winchester.”

“Sheriff.”

“I'm sorry you had to drive all the way here. I would have taken them back to town myself, but i've still got a lot to deal with.”

“It's no problem,” Castiel assures her, “Is everyone alright.”

“Everyone's alive.” She assures them, “They're keeping Hael overnight for observation.”

“What happened?”

The sheriff shifts closer to them and lowers her voice, wings twitching subtly against her back.

“Hael fell from a window, apparently. The kids are saying that they found her on the ground outside the lighthouse, she woke up and told them that she had a vision while looking out the window and that's why she fell. But Hael is telling us that she doesn't remember anything at _all_ that happened today, until arriving at the hospital.”

“Ah.” Says Castiel, looking thoughtful.

“Yeah. It's been one of those days.”

“Can we take them or did you need to talk to them more?”

“Go ahead,” Says Jody, “I don't think we're getting any more out of them tonight. If I have any more questions I’ll call.”

The drive back to Silence is subdued, the kids lean against each other in the back seat. Dean drives now that he's calmed down, and Castiel stares thoughtfully out the passenger window.

 After they've dropped everyone off, the car is quiet. Sam is uncharacteristically silent and Dean is loathe to push him. He imagines finding someone fallen out of a window might do to Sam what getting a call from the Sheriff did to him. He's surprised to see Sam so calm.

“You okay?” He asks as they pull up to the house.

“Yeah, yeah. It's just-” Sam frowns and scrubs at his chin, “She _woke up_ , and she talked to us, and now she can't remember? What is that? That's weird, right?”

“It's pretty weird.”

“You believe me, right?”

“Course I believe you, Sam.” Dean assures him.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“Why do you think I was scared?”

“I saw your face when you got to the hospital, Dean, I'm not an idiot. I'm sorry. We just... thought we should go with her.”

Dean sighs, “Yeah. No, I know. It was a good thing to do, Sam. I just- I'll never be able to stand hospitals again. That's not your fault.”

They sit in silence for several long moments while the car cools beneath them, until Dean finally takes a deep breath and opens his door. “We better go in. That damn cat's probably eaten the couch or something.”

Sam rolls his eyes as he climbs out of his side, “She has been perfectly pleasant, Dean. Don't pretend you don't like her.”

“If I catch her scratching the couch again I'm gonna buy a spray bottle.”

 

At what point does the unnatural become natural? The surprising mundane? Dean can't say, only that he's already becoming accustomed to things he'd never imagined existed before moving here. It's not that he's not in awe, because he is, it just doesn't catch him off guard quite as much anymore.

That said, he still startles when face-to-face with an actual, honest-to-goodness centaur.

“Mornin'.” Says the creature as it trots by him on the road, giving a wave.

“Uh.” Says Dean, who has stopped to stare in what he thinks is probably a rude manner, but he can't help it, “Morning.”

Whether or not it helps matters, Dean isn't staring _just_ because he's just seen a man with the body of a horse, but also because that man was shirtless and had what must have been a twelve-pack. Is it weird if he admires the torso of a horse-man? That's one he's not going to parse out anytime soon.

Of course, that makes him wonder, do inter-species romances happen a lot here? Is there anyone here who's half fairy half vampire? Witch-werewolf? He looks a little closer at the people he passes, trying to see if he can spot any mixing. Is that speciesist? Unsure, he decides not to do it anymore until he can ask someone.

Work has been a little frustrating this last week, and not because of any of the actual _work_ , but because of his co-workers. One in particular.

He's sure Eric doesn't mean anything by it, but he's constantly coming by to ask Dean simple questions that he surely knows the answers to. Dean suspects he does it just so that he has an excuse to lean suggestively on things.

It had been worrying until Rachel, the receptionist, explained to Dean that Eric is a nymph. Apparently they're just, like, notoriously horny or something. So Dean's not really sure if the fact that Eric wants to bone him is good or bad. Because, yeah, the guy's pretty cute. He's got a nice face and Dean finds his weird flower-hair oddly attractive. But there's just... something missing. He's not _into_ Eric, not that he's not a nice guy, but Dean doesn't like him the way he does, say, Castiel. Just for instance.

Because he's always thinking about Castiel, wondering what he's doing. Wishing they were hanging out. Wishing it were easier, as adults, to hang out with someone. It's not like he can suggest they do homework together.

So maybe he has a crush. Just a minor one. Just a little, itty bitty crush. No big deal.

 

Dean has just gotten home from work, barely had time to toe his shoes off by the door, when there comes a knock.

To his great surprise, it's Castiel, standing there cheerfully, wearing overalls that have been rolled up almost to his knees. A soft gray t-shirt is underneath. On his head sits a straw hat with a brim so wide that Dean isn't sure he'll fit through the door. His feet are bare, and he's carrying a big wicker basket.

“Dean!” He says happily, almost surprised, as if he hadn't really expected Dean to answer the door.

“Hey, Cas.” He's smiling before he can help himself, caught in Castiel's own golden radiance.

“I'm going to go pick some lavender.” Castiel informs him, “It's over there.” He gestures to some point behind the house, “I just thought you should know.”

“You want some company?” Dean asks, before thinking. There's something about Castiel that makes him just blurt things out. It's dangerous, he needs to be more careful.

But then Castiel is smiling his big, gummy smile, as if this is the best possible thing that could have happened. “I would love some company!”

“Alright, let me just change real quick. I just got home.”

He leaves Castiel on the porch, and when he comes back out in faded jeans and a worn old shirt, he finds Castiel sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the porch, the cat on his lap.

“Where did you find this dear?”

For a brief moment, Dean thinks that Castiel just called him _dear_ , and he almost trips and falls off of the porch. Thankfully he realizes only moments later that Castiel was referring to the cat.

“Ah. Sam found her.” He says, willing his blush away.

Castiel leans down to touch his nose to hers, and she chirps contentedly. “What a lovely creature.”

“Yeah, well, that lovely creature has been using my couch as a scratching post so she goes outside when I'm at work.”

Castiel grins and looks up at Dean fondly, for reasons that escape Dean completely. But then, he's having a hard time thinking clearly at the moment.

“You like her.” Says Castiel, getting to his feet.

“She's a pain.”

“But you like her.”

Dean scowls. “She's alright.”

“Come on,” Castiel laughs, holding out his hand, “Lets go.”

Dean reaches out without thinking, slipping his hand into Castiel's and letting himself be pulled along. The stag still stands at the edge of the property, but it hardly seems malicious anymore. How it's still alive is a mystery, it hasn't left to eat or drink, but Silence is full of magic and Dean finds himself not quite caring about a little more.

Castiel starts to run, hat flapping wildly, pulling Dean along with him. When they finally come to a stop, Castiel is laughing and Dean is out of breath.

“How do you have so much energy?” Dean gasps, taking a moment to put his hands on his knees.

“I like running.” Says Castiel.

Dean looks up at him, happy, bathed in sunlight, and thinks that now would be a good time to kiss him. A really, really good time.

He takes a breath and straightens up. “Where's this lavender?”

“This way!” Castiel tugs him further along, until they're rounding a copse of trees and coming across a great patch of the vibrant purple flowers.

“Whoa! Cas, there are bees all over the place!”

“I know! Isn't it great?”

“Um...”

“Oh, come on,” Castiel gives Dean's hand a squeeze, “You're not afraid of bees, are you? They don't mean any harm.”

“They sting!”

“Only if you scare them.” Castiel gives him a look, “It's just a little pinch anyway. That's not going to bother a big, strong guy like you, is it?”

He's grinning, the shithead, because he knows he's got Dean in a spot. But also he just called Dean _big and strong_ , so Dean's not too put out.

“Whatever,” Dean says finally, fighting his own smile, “But if I get stung, it's your fault.”

“I'll be sure and kiss it better.” Says Castiel. It's probably meant to be mocking, but the words send Dean's heart racing.

They harvest lavender, which is not something Dean thought he'd ever find himself doing, but here he is. Maybe he's just a sucker for a pretty smile and incredibly dorky hats. He does have fun though, despite trying to dodge bees while Castiel isn't looking. The lavender smells sweet, and the uncharacteristically sunny day has them both sweating in no time at all.

Thinking only of the heat, Dean strips off his shirt and tosses it on the grass nearby. When he turns back, be finds Castiel looking at him, expression stunned. He ducks his head quickly away from Dean's gaze, but not before a blush begins to spread up his cheeks.

“You okay?” Dean asks, stepping closer to him.

“Oh. Um. Yes. I- uh, I was, um-”

Dean frowns, “Am I... making you uncomfortable? I can put the shirt back on.”

“No!” Castiel's eyes are wide, face beet-red, “I mean- you- whatever you're... comfortable with.”

He looks away again, hands fiddling anxiously with the bundle of lavender in his hands. Dean has never seen him flustered before, and it brings up so many questions and just as many feelings. He hasn't wanted to kiss someone this badly in a very long time.

Slowly, carefully, he moves closer. He doesn't want to spook Castiel, but he wants to give the other man time to move away if needs to.

He's an arm's length away, closer, reaching out to touch Castiel's knuckles.

Castiel looks up, knocking the brim of his hat into Dean's face in the process.

“Ow.” Dean sputters.

“I'm so sorry!” Castiel gasps, almost a laugh.

“No, that's okay,”

Castiel reaches out to touch Dean's nose where it was assaulted, rubbing his thumb over the bridge, “You'll never be a model now.”

“I'm hideous, am I?”

“I've ruined your face. People will scream and run the other way, babies will cry.”

“What about inner beauty?”

“Well they'll never get close enough to see it now, will they?”

Dean laughs, his heart calms a little. His hand comes up to Castiel's waist, and his eyes drop to the man's mouth.

“Oh,” Says Castiel, sounding a little nervous perhaps, but not at all displeased.

“You still like me even though I’m hideous now?” Dean teases.

“Well... I suppose.”

“You _suppose_?”

“I guess your personality is alright.”

“Wow.”

They're so close now, noses almost touching. Castiel's whole face is flushed, his hat knocked askew by Dean's head. Just a little closer.

Someone's cellphone begins to ring.

“Hell.” Says Dean.

“Oh, I am _so_ sorry,” Says Castiel, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his overalls, he looks at the caller ID and scrunches his nose, “I have to take this.”

“Ah.”

“Sorry,”

“No, yeah, you gotta answer your phone.”

“I'll be right back.” Castiel steps away and answers his phone, speaking in hushed tones.

Dean, meanwhile, tries to catch his breath. He's kicking himself for not moving just a _little_ quicker, for not just _doing_ it, goddammit. But hey, it seems like his feelings are reciprocated, right? At least a little? It felt like it, anyway.

“I have to go.” Says Castiel, hanging up.

“Oh.”

“My sister needs help with something.”

“Yeah, of course.”

They look at each other for a long moment, and Dean tries not to feel crushed.

“Thank you.” Castiel says, “for... helping me.”

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah. Anytime. Really, anytime you need something, I'm, uh. You know.” Because that doesn't sound desperate at all.

“Alright.” Castiel picks up his basket, full of lavender, and they start back toward the house. They're quieter now, and it's hard to tell if the silence is awkward or just thoughtful.

The basket goes into the back of Castiel's little car, and then he's waving goodbye.

“I'll talk to you later?” He says.

“Yeah, of course.” Dean assures him, then watches forlornly as he drives away.

“Meow.” Arti says from her perch on the porch.

“You can just keep your opinions to yourself.” Dean tells her, stomping into the house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- the cat is not dangerous, just before anyone asks. it's just a cat that happens to have a bunch of damn eyes
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> [gabriel's outfit](http://outfit-of-the-day-girls.tumblr.com/post/156121719297)
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> [jess' outfit](http://outfit-of-the-day-girls.tumblr.com/post/158240482151)
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> [some pictures of dean's torso, in case you're wondering why cas was so flustered](http://everythingbagels.tumblr.com/dwshirtless)
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> So, in case it wasn't obvious, i'm doing a polyamorous relationship with Sam, Jess, and Gabe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is a short chapter, and there's no plot in it at all, it's just fluff. sorry about that, it's been a rough week. i've had a stress headache for three days straight, grinding my teeth so my jaw hurts, and I think i've given myself an ulcer. anyway i'll do a longer, more relevant chapter next week

Castiel's kitchen is a wondrous place, with jars and bottles and bowls overflowing with herbs and liquids and other things Dean can't name. Plants line the sink, crystals sit atop the fridge.

“Why are there so many walnuts?” He wonders, eyeing the pile behind the sugar canister, the ones beside the microwave, sitting in bowls and cups.

“Oh, don't worry about those.” Says Castiel. He chops kale, mushrooms and onions for their salad while the smell of the casserole in the oven permeates the apartment.

“You know, telling me not to worry just makes me worry.” Dean tries to sneak a bit of chicken from the big salad bowl and his rewarded with a slap on the hand.

“We'll eat in a minute.” Castiel tells him.

“It smells so good, though,” Dean tells him, leaning against the counter, “You're a good cook.”

Castiel looks at him, eyes bright, obviously trying to suppress a smile. “Complimenting me isn't going to get you food.”

“But that's the whole reason I'm here.” Dean teases.

Castiel gasps dramatically. “Dean Winchester are you _using_ me for my food?”

“Absolutely.”

“And I thought we were friends.”

“Only as long as you feed me.”

Castiel laughs and looks like he's going to say more, but it's then that Claire pokes her head into the kitchen.

“Dad, could you stop being weird for like, one second, I need help with my calc.”

“One, I'm not weird.”

“Hah!” Says Claire.

“I'm perfectly normal.”

“You own rainbow bell-bottoms.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “I'll be out to help you in a minute.”

“She has a point.” Dean says, after she's gone, “I've never met anyone else who has pants like that. They are... bright.”

Castiel frowns. “I like bright.”

“Bright is good! Bright is good. It's just different, you know?”

Castiel is still frowning, and Dean feels like he's definitely said something wrong, although he's not quite sure what. He has to fix this.

“I like it.” He says, “I like your style.”

Castiel's face softens as he looks at Dean, “You like it?”

“I think you look fly as hell.”

“Ew.” Says Claire, who has just poked her head back into the kitchen, “That's like the oldest sentence I think I've ever heard.”

“Claire Elizabeth,” Castiel chastises, laughing, “Get your butt out of here.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, but goes.

Dean snorts. “Teenagers.”

“A gift.”

“Or something.”

“Try this?” Castiel holds out a spoon with some sort of sauce on it toward Dean, who leans forward to taste. He can't help but lock eyes with Castiel at the last moment, as he sucks the tangy sauce off the utensil, then licks his lips. Castiel's eyes track the movement, his own lips part.

“Dad!” Claire yells from living room.

“Coming, my dove.” Castiel replies wearily, rolling his eyes.

“Teenagers.” Says Dean.

“Teenagers.” Castiel agrees.

 

They're crowded around Castiel's coffee table in the living room, because the kitchen table is a pile of books and herbs that threatens to topple at any moment. It's Dean, Castiel, Claire and her friend Alex, helping themselves to the food crammed onto the little table. His knee is pressed to Castiel's, their elbows keep bumping, but Castiel smiles at him every time it happens and Dean is surprisingly okay with it.

Dean is getting to know Claire, and this seems to make Castiel happy. He grins brightly when Claire and Dean talk, even if it's mostly teasing on both ends. Dean remembers what it's like to be sixteen, all the emotions and inner turmoil. Absolutely everything was the end of the world. He only hopes that, with Castiel as a father, she won't have as rough a time as he did. She seems happy enough, for a teen. Despite the dark eyeliner and outward prickliness, she smiles a lot a home. She laughs like her father, head thrown back, and she eats voraciously.

“This is good, Dad.” She admits with a mouth full of salad.

Beside her, Alex nods in agreement, “Pretty good, Mr. Collins.”

Castiel smiles happily, “Well, thank you girls, I can teach you how to make it if you want.”

Claire winces. “Definitely not my scene.”

“Hmm, how about helping me with the dishes then?”

Claire pouts, obviously confused about how she got roped into dishes when all she did was compliment her father's cooking.

“Fine.” She grumbles, “I'll do the dishes.”

“I'll help you out, kid, don't worry.” Says Dean.

As it ends up, Claire begs off dishes to finish her homework with Alex, and it's just him and Castiel, elbow deep in soapy water.

“You usually make your guests do chores?”

“You volunteered.” Castiel reminds him.

“Yeah, I'm kind of an idiot.”

“Well, I wasn't going to say anything,”

Dean elbows his friend in the side. “You're an asshole.”

“I could have let you do the dishes by yourself, you know.”

“I guess you've got me there.”

Castiel looks at him, hands still in the soapy water of the sink. “Thanks for having dinner with us.” He says.

“Yeah, no problem, man. I had a good time.”

“How'd you like the casserole?”

“It was good, and I don't even usually like casserole.”

“Blasphemy!”

Dean snorts, “What? Are you super into casseroles?”

“They're a good invention, Dean.”

“Okay, but it's just _casserole_.”

Castiel clicks his tongue. “I may only make casserole for you from now on.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Hmm.”

“I'll just have to cook _you_ dinner then.”

Castiel smiles, “Can you cook?”

“Sure. I can make cereal.”

“Dean!”

“Kidding, I can cook some. I'm not _great_ , but I get by.”

“Well, in that case, I would love for you to cook for me.”

“I even have an actual table and everything.”

“I _have_ a table, it's just... in use.”

“In use? That's what you call it?”

“Yes.”

“If you say so.”

“So, what are you going to cook for me?”

“Huh, I don't know. Maybe some kind of pasta. You like pasta?”

“Sometimes. I like the ones that are fun shapes.”

“I'll make you some kind of pasta. And... I don't know, garlic bread? Or rolls. Garlic rolls. We can have wine.”

“Oh, can we?”

“Red wine.”

“Well aren't we fancy.”

Dean ducks his head and wets his lips.

“Tomorrow night?”

Castiel tilts his head a little, thoughtfully. “It's a date.” He says.

 

 

Sam

 

The fact that he got hired at Underfoot feels like a sign. Of what, exactly, he has no idea, but it definitely feels like one. The woman who hired him is tall and serious and her name is Uriel, which seems weird, but who is Sam to judge? She's scares him a bit though, he's not ashamed to admit, which is why he's glad she isn't the one to train him.

That task goes to Charlie Bradbury, mermaid. Charlie is an amazing creature, red-haired and enthusiastic, eternally cheerful, and covered neck to flippers in iridescent green scales. There are a few small patches behind her ears too, but her face is smooth. Her tail is massive, covered with a blanket to keep it safe, and tucked into a wheelchair. It's a little odd, seeing someone with a tail and a Star Wars t-shirt. Sam realizes a few hours in that that's why the counter tops are so low, so that Charlie can reach everything, and feels a surge of respect for Uriel.

Working at Underfoot is unexpectedly difficult, there are a million different ways to make coffee, apparently, and Sam is expected to learn all of them. Besides that, morning customers are mostly on their way to work, and in a bad mood.

By the end of his first shift, he's feeling absolutely drained. He wants nothing more than to go home and collapse in bed. However, destiny has other plans.

Or, well, Gabe and Jess have other plans. Same difference.

“Sam!” Gabriel shouts, grinning widely as he bursts though the door, startling both Sam and Charlie.

“Uh, hey Gabe.”

Gabriel is followed swiftly by Jess, who looks amused.

“Are you still working?” She wonders.

“Just clocked out.”

“And what will you do now?” Asks Gabriel, miming holding a microphone up to Sam's mouth.

“I was gonna probably go home and take a nap?”

“Oh, come on!” Says Jess.

“Yeah, come _on_.” Gabriel parrots, “What about adventure?”

“Adventure?” Sam laughs.

“Adventure!”

“I don't know if I can do mysteries right now, guys. It's been a long day.”

Jess and Gabriel exchange a look. “What about just regular adventures?” Says Jess.

“Low key?”

“Low key.” They promise.

 

Low key, apparently, means hiking all over the countryside. It's called geocaching and Sam can't decide if he likes it or not.

On one hand, he's tired. He's been on his feet all day and they hurt. He's been around people all day too, and his battery is just about run dry. On the other hand, he needs the exercise. This is the most he's been out of the house since dad died. The sun is warm on his head, the breeze light against his back, stirring his hair. Jess is a little ways ahead, wearing only jean shorts, a blue crop-top, and a huge straw hat she stole from Castiel. She looks ready for adventure.

Gabriel, on the other hand, has on jeans and a shirt that says, _why have gender rolls when we can have sushi rolls_. It's cute, but he's sweating profusely, he's tied his long hair up into a bun and little wisps are coming loose to frame his face.

Jess has her phone out, and they're apparently looking for a specific location. Sam isn't really clear on the rules.

“You okay?” He asks Gabriel, who seems to be wheezing a little.

“Yeah. Oh yeah.” He says, out of breath, “Just allergies, I'll be fine.”

Sam slows further, reaching out to tug Gabriel closer to him by the shirt. “You know you need air to live, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I'm just doing this for funsies. Not breathing is a hobby of mine.”

“You want me to carry you?”

Gabriel gives him a look, amusement and disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

“I'm serious.”

“Uh, huh.”

Sam jumps in front of him and squats down, “Get on.”

“What?”

“Get on my back, Gabriel, we don't have all day!”

Reluctantly, Gabriel climbs onto Sam's back, shrieking when Sam stand back up.

“This is so high! How do you do this _all the time_?”

Sam laughs and lopes after Jess, a new weight on his back. Gabriel wraps his arms tight around Sam's shoulders.

“Come on!” Jess shouts from far ahead, “I'm going to lose you, you old men!”

“You're older than me!” Says Gabriel.

Jess grins, one hand on her hat to keep it from flying away, turns and runs.

“Ah, damn.” Says Sam, “She's gonna leave us!”

“Well then, let's go! Mush, or whatever!”

“You're gonna regret that.” Sam tells him, but he starts to run.

They finally catch up to Jess at the edge of a large lake, still and green. She's frowning at her phone.

“It's right around here somewhere.” She insists, “Look for anything out of place.”

Sam lets a grinning Gabriel slide off of his back and they all look around for... whatever it is they're looking for. Gabriel finds it eventually under what turns out to be a fake rock, it's a little metal box. Inside is pencil stub, a piece of paper with a list of names, and several trinkets; a glowing purple rock, a seashell, a Hello Kitty ring.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Sam asks.

“We write our names here,” She scrawls her own name on the piece of paper and then hands it to Sam, “Then we take something, and leave something.”

“What, that's it?”

“Yeah!”

Sam frowns, “I don't have anything to leave.”

“Me neither.” Gabriel confesses.

Jess rolls her eyes. “ _I_ have stuff, don't worry about it.” She pulls a plastic baggy out of her pocket and empties the contents onto the ground. There's a leather choker with a little heart charm, several small cloth bags, a jar of thyme, some marbles.

“What's in the bags.”

“They're spells to help you sleep.” Jess explains, “I bought them from Cas.”

Gabriel snatches up the Hello Kitty ring right away and slides into happily onto his finger. Jess takes the shell and Sam takes the stone, it's pretty, and he's finding its soft light comforting. They leave all the trinkets that Jess brought, stuffing them into the little box.

“I can't believe we walked all this way just for that.” Gabriel whines, “I'm _tired_.”

“Hey, I carried you halfway.” Sam reminds him.

Gabriel sticks out his tongue.

“Come here, you whiney baby.” Sam opens his arms and Gabriel quickly lets himself be folded into a hug. Before he realizes it, Sam is slipping Gabriel's phone out of his pocket.

“Hey!” Gabriel protests, “Is that my phone? That's my phone! What the-”

He's cut off as Sam swoops down and picks him up, carries him the few steps to the lake, and promptly tosses him into the water.

He comes back up shrieking and cursing.

“ _Oh you fucking asshole, you goddamn fucking asshole_!”

“You looked hot!” Sam explains, cackling.

“ _I'm gonna kill you, you motherfucker!_ ”

“That water looks pretty nice, actually.” Jess remarks.

“ _You have no idea how mad I am right now!_ ” Gabriel comes climbing out of the water to pummel Sam. Unfortunately, all he manages to do is get Sam's shirt soggy.

Gabriel is glowering and Sam is laughing when Jess runs by them, naked as the day she was born. They watch helplessly as she jumps into the lake, all billowing hair and tanned skin.

“What?” Says Gabriel, hair dripping in his face, staring at the lake.

“I... don't know.” Says Sam, looking at the pile of clothes on the grass.

Jess breaks the surface of the water laughing and crowing, “Come on! Come swim.”

Sam considers it, rolls the idea around in his head for a moment before deciding that it actually sounds pretty good. The water looks cool and inviting, and Jess' wet skin glistens in the sun.

Sam toes off his shoes, only to have Gabriel grab his arm.

“Whoa, what? Are you really going skinny dipping?”

Sam shrugs, “Yeah? It's hot out, man.” He peels off his shirt.

“Oh,” Says Gabriel, a blush growing in his cheeks.

“You okay?”

“Yep, yep. Everything's great.”  
  
Sam unbuttons his pants and watches as Gabriel looks away. “You coming?”

“Nah.”

“Why not?” Sam asks, kicking off his jeans and standing there in the nude.

“Uh.” Says Gabriel, looking back at him and then very swiftly away again, “Fuck.” He whispers.

“It'll be fun.”

“No I, uh, I think I'll just wait. I'll just hang out over there. It's cool.”

“Gabe,” Sam chides, “Why not? You're all wet already anyway.”

Gabriel shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest, his face is flushed and he looks nervous, not a trace of his earlier anger in sight, “I just- uh,”

Sam waits. Gabriel swallows.

“Don't make fun of me, okay?” He says finally, in a voice smaller than Sam has heard before. Hesitant, unsure.

“I'm not gonna make fun of you, man.” Sam says seriously, “Neither is Jess.”

“I'm just- um.” He clears his throat, “Not very, you know, in shape. Not like you guys. I- I don't look- I mean-”

“Gabe.” Sam reaches out and takes Gabriel's face in his hands, “You look great. We love you.”

Maybe it's weird, he hasn't known either of them for that long, but he does love them. Sometimes you can tell when someone is supposed to be in your life, and he can with these two. He needs them, he wants them. He loves them.

Gabriel, even redder than before, stares up at him in awe.

“It would be easier to take you seriously if I couldn't see your dick.” He says.

“Well that's just too bad.”

“Hurry up!” Says Jess.

Sam gives a little tug to the bottom of Gabriel's shirt. “You need help?”

“No.” Gabriel says firmly, “Just- go swim. I'll be there in a minute. _Do not_ look at me.”

“Alright, alright.” Sam agrees, stepping back and raising his hands in surrender. He turns and lopes to the water where Jess is waiting, watching the exchange with only her eyes above water. She raises her eyebrows at him in a silent question. He shrugs.

The two of them turn away from the shore until they hear the splash of Gabriel entering the lake.

“Ugh, it's all _squishy_.”

“Yeah, the bottom is mud, genius.” Jess points out.

He's right though, the bottom of the lake is not only squishy, but also full of rocks and mushy weeds that squelch in between Sam's toes.

They swim, they splash, they laugh. Sam hasn't had this much fun swimming since he was a kid. They all have hair plastered to their faces, mud on their feet. Gabriel gets frightened by a fish and screams for a solid five seconds. The trouble is that they're all extremely naked and wet and also young, Sam keeps seeing Jess' breasts, glistening and soft. He wants to reach out and touch, a couple of times his body has made aborted moves when she's near. Once, she saw it, and gave him this knowing, calculating look.

Gabriel is different, soft in the arms, chest, and belly. Sam imagines he's soft in the thighs as well. Sam understands why Gabriel was hesitant before, he's a little chubby, and standing next to a nude Jess would be daunting for anyone. Sam wishes he could tell Gabriel he wants him just as much, he wants to kiss Gabriel's soft stomach and the swell of Jess' breast. Gabriel is different, sure, but he's no less lovely. The freckles on his sides are something completely his own. His smiles are all joy and playfulness, where Jess' are fierce and strong.

Inexplicably he finds himself behind Gabriel, drawn to the gentle curves of his body. Gabriel turns and catches him staring.

“You're _looking_ at me!” He accuses, scandalized, attempting to cover his belly with his hands.

Sam smiles at him, in what he hopes is a nonthreatening way. “Yeah, well, I like you.”

Gabriel's eyes widen.

It's at this point that Jess surges out of the water and tackles Sam, screeching like a sea monster and trying to strangle him. Sam, being the mature adult he is, rises to the challenge and plunges them both underwater. A great battle ensues, splashing and biting and tackling are commonplace and no one really ends up winning, although Sam does accidentally touch several parts of Jess he probably shouldn't, but she didn't seem to mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- charlie is a mermaid. she's in a wheelchair because these are not the kinds of mermaids that can just switch back and forth between mermaid and human, and obviously she can't walk with a tail
> 
>  
> 
> [sushi rolls not gender rolls shirt](https://www.lookhuman.com/design/48644-who-needs-gender-roles-when-we-can-have-sushi-rolls/6010-heathered_gray_nl-md)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> \- jess loses her temper  
> \- a memory is extracted  
> \- tea-mergency  
> \- the gang explores the underground  
> \- feelings are shared and explored  
> \- grocery store karaoke

Sam

 

The mayor's office is located in town hall, right smack dab in the middle of Silence. It's a huge old building with roots that stretch deep into the soil, deeper than any other building in town. The town hall is the oldest building in the county, having survived more revolts, fires, and magical disasters than you can shake a stick at.

Sam can feel when they walk through the big, heavy front doors, that sense of suddenly being in a place much _more_ than it should be. It's similar to the feeling of the library, which spans countries.

He suppresses a shiver and looks to Jess.

“Do we have to be here?”

“It's the logical next step.” She explains for the fifth time in the last half-hour, “Hael had visions about The Mayor, so we check out The Mayor. Makes sense to me.”

Sam frowns. “What's the mayor's name again?”

“Huh?”

“The name?”

“It's The Mayor.”

“Yeah, okay, but who's mayor? What's their name?”

“They're The Mayor, Sam, I don't know how you're not getting this.”

Sam huffs, wondering if she's being purposely obtuse or if this is another one of Those Things that makes Silence such a damn quirky tourist destination.

“... Does the mayor have a gender?” Sam asks carefully.

Jess and Gabriel are both squinting at him now, and he's pretty sure they're being serious.

“Mayor.” Says Jess.

“Alright.” Says Sam. No, he doesn't quite get it, but he'll go along with it. It's one of those things you have to do in a place like this, you see something really damn weird, you just go with it.

The lobby is eerily empty, but they ascend a curving stairway to their right, and come out on the second story. Here there's a very white room, with one closed door and one desk occupied by a blond woman with her head bent studiously over some paperwork.

“Hello?” Jess says after several moments unnoticed.

The woman looks up, and there's a sharpness in her eyes that has Sam flinching backward before he even realizes he's doing it. He's steadied only by Gabriel's palm on the small of his back.

“Can I help you?” She asks pointedly.

Jess straightens her posture, lifts her chin. She means business. “We'd like to make an appointment to see The Mayor.”

The woman blinks at her, then raises a single, amused eyebrow. “What about?”

“Private business.”

The woman sighs, but not like she's giving in, more like she's gearing up for an argument. “I'm sorry. The Mayor's all booked up. No openings.”

“Until when?”

“The foreseeable future.” She looks almost pleased, though Sam couldn't say why.

By his side, Jess is fuming. “We _need_ to see The Mayor.”

“We all need things, sweetheart,” The woman says in an incredibly condescending tone, “Sooner or later you're going to have to figure out that we don't always get what we want.”

“You can't _stop_ us!” Jess insists, striding across the room. The blond woman doesn't even try to stop her as she reaches the door and yanks on the handle. It doesn't budge. Jess pulls again and again, but nothing happens. Jess bangs on the door, she yells, “Open up!”

The blond woman looks at Sam, “You'd better get your friend out of here before I call security.” She says happily.

Of course, Jess won't come, and shouts a few choice words at Sam for even suggesting it. In the end, he throws her over his shoulder, howling and cursing, and carries her bodily from the building with Gabriel trailing worriedly behind them.

Sam doesn’t put Jess down until several blocks away from the town hall. When he does, she's springing into his face,

“What did you do that for?” She snaps.

“You were about to get us kicked out.” Sam reminds her.

She yowls and kicks at the nearest building before slumping down in defeat. “She's _hiding_ something!”

“Of course she is, it's Lilith.” Gabriel agrees, sitting down beside her, “But yelling isn't going to get you anywhere with her.”

Sam sits down on Jess' other side and puts a hand placatingly on her knee.

“She went to school with us.” Gabriel explains, “She's evil. But like, smart too. Horrible combination.”

Like a fire, Jess has burned herself out. She's used up all her fury at once, and now she leans her head dejectedly back onto the brick wall.

“She's hiding something.” She says again.

“I know, hon.” Gabriel leans over and presses a kiss to her temple.

“I'm sorry, guys.” She says after a while, “I made a big fuckin' scene and now we'll never get to talk to The Mayor.”

“We'll do something else.” Sam assures her, “Don't worry about it.”

 

 

Dean

 

A memory, one memory. That's all Castiel needs.

So why is it so hard for Dean to choose? Why does this feel like such a big decision? It could be any memory, according to Castiel, good or bad. This is a great way to get rid of something, but it's all such a part of him. Every memory, whether or not he likes it, has shaped him into the person he is today.

In the end, he picks something simple. Something he hopes won't change him in any critical way. He picks a memory of himself eating breakfast earlier that week. He'd been in a bad mood, but nothing had come of it, good or bad.

Even still, giving it up makes him nervous, as if it's something structurally important, and with its removal everything will come crumbling down.

“Try to relax.” Castiel tells him, fingers pressed gently to Dean's temples.

They sit in the middle of a circle of salt on the kitchen floor, legs crossed, facing each other. Nearby, Emmie watches silently.

Dean does his best to relax, but only ends up tensing further.

“What are you afraid of?” Castiel asks.

“I don't know.” Dean answers, “I just- there's something so _wrong_ about having a memory and then just _not_ having it anymore.”

“Would it help if you thought of it as just... forgetting?”

“I don't know.”

“We can take our time, Dean. I'm not going to force you to do this.”

“I want to,” Dean reassures him, “I can do it. I just need a minute.”

Castiel goes silent and lets his fingers trail down to Dean's chin, his shoulders, down his arms to his hands, he slips his fingers in between Dean's. Dean breathes out, trying again to relax.

“Dean,” He says, after a moment, “I promise you, I won't let anything bad happen. If I think taking your memory has harmed anything, I'll put it right back.”

“You can do that?”

“I can.”

Dean closes his eyes. This is Castiel. He trusts Castiel. They're friends, he won't hurt Dean.

“Okay. Okay, I’m ready.”  
  
Castiel shifts a little closer and reaches for the small wooden box at his side, Dean doesn't know what it holds. “Okay, I want you to think about this memory. Bring it to the front of your mind, try to inhabit it. If you can, try and remember details, how you felt.”

Dean takes a steadying breath. He remembers feeling frustrated, he'd had nightmares and been unable to sleep. He was tired, and when he'd gone to pour himself a bowl of cereal he found the milk sour.

“Relax your hands.” Comes Castiel's voice, soft, “Your arms, shoulders.”

As soon as Castiel says the words, Dean realizes that his hands are clenched, his arms are rigid, his shoulders are tight. He concentrates on relaxing each part of himself.

“Good.” Says Castiel, pulling a small glass bottle. He holds it up, its long end glinting in the sunlight.

“Now, I want you to breathe the memory into this.”

“I'm sorry, what?” Dean wonders, baffled. Honestly, he hadn't really thought _he'd_ be doing anything.

Castiel taps the bottle with one long finger. “Breathe it into this.” He says again.

“But I don't know _how_.”

Castiel smiles this small, knowing smile and shakes his head. “It's exactly how it sounds.” He says, “You hold the memory in your mind, and then, you breathe it out.”

He holds the bottle out to Dean, who takes it with no small amount of trepidation. “You're crazy.” He says.

Castiel purses his lips.

“Alright, alright, I’ll try it.”

He puts the bottle to his lips. No way this is going to work, he thinks. No way. But he'll give it a shot anyway. He puts the bottle to his mouth, thinking of the memory, trying to get the shape of it, and then he breathes and pictures the memory slipping out of his mouth and into the bottle.

Just like that, it's gone. He can't remember, for the life of him, what he's just been thinking about.

Castiel beams and reaches out to take the bottle from Dean's still hands, stopper at the ready. Sure enough, a silver shimmering smoke has filled the bottle to the brim. It wiggles and writhes, trying to find a way out around Castiel's stopper.

“Whoa.” Says Dean.

“I told you it was easy.”

“But... no way. I didn't really _do_ anything.”

Castiel shrugs, “Magic is easier than most people think.”

“Huh.”

“Let me make you some tea.”

“This is my house, you know. I should be making the tea.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, “You have no idea how to make tea.” He says, getting to his feet.

Dean, slightly offended, follows, “Of course I know how to make tea, you just put it in hot water! It's not difficult.”

Castiel narrows his eyes and goes about rummaging through Dean's cupboards. “Where's your tea?”

“Uh, it's in the right cabinet.” He grabs the broom from the hall closet to sweep up the salt, and when he gets back Castiel is staring daggers at his one box of plain Lipton.

“ _This_ is all you have?” Castiel asks, flabbergasted.

“Yeah?”  
  
“ _This is all you have_?!”

“Yeah!”

“Oh my god, this is absolutely terrible.”

“Hey, we can't all have entire closets devoted to tea.”

“You don't even have chamomile! Everyone has _chamomile_!”

“Well. I don't.”

Castiel sighs, rubbing his forehead with the heal of his hand, “Dean Winchester, I seems we have some work to do.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yes.”

“No way.”

“We're buying you some tea.”

“I really don't feel like it's that important.”

“It is! What am I going to drink when I come over, hmm?”

This gives Dean pause. He certainly wants Castiel to come over, and to feel comfortable coming over. He wets his lips, swallows, and says, “Alight, alright. We'll buy some damn tea.”

 

 

Sam

 

One thing about Silence that sort of makes perfect sense once you know about it, is that the whole town is built atop another. Right over top. There's whole buildings, tunnels and roads and streams down beneath the town that nobody ever thinks about, except occasionally when a part of the road or someone's house collapses.

Sam doesn't know exactly why Silence is build on top of another town, he can't get a straight answer. When he asks, Jess says there was a year long flood that forced everyone to build new buildings on top of the old, and that the water and mud had eventually dried into land again, but quite a bit higher up than before. Gabriel claims an earthquake buried the town under rubble of a nearby mountain. Neither of those stories seem quite right, although Sam can't say why.

Underfoot has a basement, and in the back of the basement is a crawlspace that ends, apparently, in the underground ruins.

Sam is having some second thoughts about this plan.

“Are you sure this goes somewhere?” He asks, he's too big for this little tunnel, crawling on his hands and knees and getting cobwebs and dirt in his hair.

“I'm sure,” Says Jess, from ahead of him, “I've been down here before.”

Sam is having trouble breathing, everything is too close, too dark. “Are we close to the exit?”

They must hear the panic in his voice.

“Remember to breathe.” Gabriel says from somewhere behind him, “We'll be out in a second.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

It's not okay. His stomach rolls and a cold sweat breaks out on his brow. But then, he feels space in front of him. A light, shining into his eyes.

“Come on,” Says Jess, reaching down to help him up, her flashlight beam illuminating a small dirt room.

“Whoa.” Sam breathes.

“Yeah, this is the shit, right?”

Sam blinks, eyes warring with the dark of the room and the light from the flashlight. “It's a hole in the ground.”

“Well, yeah. But it gets cooler. Come on.”

There's a wooden door, broken in half, rotting away to nothing. Beyond it, more darkness. More dirt. More rooms.

Jess is gleeful, pointing her flashlight this way and that, sweeping it wide over the ground. It's mostly just dirt and stone, but here's a window, there's some sort of wheel, half buried. Graffiti adorns the walls, some old, some new.

“Do many people come down here?” Sam wonders.

“Not much anymore.” Jess tells him, “There used to be ghosts, but they've all disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“They're gone.”

“Gone?” Says Gabriel, “How can they just be gone?”

Jess shrugs, unworried. “All I know is, there used to be a bunch of 'em down here and now there's not.”

“Why are we here?” Sam asks her.

“I don't know.” She admits, “I thought maybe we'd find something. And, you know, I like it down here.”

“God, you're weird.” Says Gabriel.

“Can't hurt to look.”

“It can if we get killed by a cave-in. Or some kind of creepy underground murderer.”

Jess shoots him a look, but doesn't respond. “You can get to the hardware store through there.” She points her light toward a hole in the wall, about halfway up. It's very small, but probably accessible by a child.

“Have you gone through there?”

“Yeah, I had to crawl for like an hour. Nightmare.”

“How did you get down here in the first place?” Gabriel asks.

“I fell through a hole in the ground. Back when they were building that Quick Stop, you remember?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“I was over there one night and I just fucking... fell through the ground.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know, right?”

“You're one of the weirdest people I know, did you know that?”

“Hmm.”

At some point, down in the dark depths of a buried town, Sam realizes that what Jess craves is exploration. She loves discovery, the thrill of being the first person to see something. He wonders what that means about her. He wonders what it means about himself that he finds it such an attractive quality. They're all covered in dirt and dust and cobwebs, but she's especially beautiful down here. Her eyes are bright, her face set in a curious and excited expression.

Sometimes, Sam forgets that she's not human. She's an entirely different species. Is he still allowed to think she's beautiful?

Mostly, there's a lot of nothing. Some rats, a lot of bugs, and not much else. For some reason, Sam expected monsters, ghosts, something. This is a little bit of a letdown, honestly. There's not really even anything cool down here, just a lot of dark.

Gabriel seems to be thinking along the same lines.

“Listen, Jessie J,” He says, “I know you're a mole person and you like the dark, but honestly it's kind of fucking boring down here and I’m cold.”

She shoots him an annoyed look, but when she turns to Sam, he nods. “I mean, there's not really anything down here, is there?”

“Come on, you guys! I can't believe this! I can't believe you're crapping out on me.”

“We've been down here for like an hour,” Gabriel whines, “There's nothing here!”

Jess frowns, then sighs. “Fine. Yeah, okay, we'll go back.”

The problem is, they've been walking and crawling for about an hour, and they're all getting tired. They have to stop about halfway back, crowded a dark little room sharing water from Jess' back.

“Maybe we should play spin the bottle,” She says mischievously, “It's very dark and romantic.”

“I wouldn't say romantic at _all_.” Says Sam.

“There's only three of us.” Gabriel points out.

“Yeah. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to make out.” She admits, leaning toward Sam, “So, you wanna make out?”

At first, he thinks it's a joke. He gives a nervous laugh and diverts his eyes, but when he looks back she's still there, leaning in. So he takes the chance, he leans in too, his lips meet hers.

Hers are soft, slightly sticky with chap-stick. She smells like coconut and sunlight and Sam can't help his hand sliding up into her hair. The way her mouth opens under his is heady, and he finds himself leaning closer and closer until they're pressed against each other, until he can feel the curves of her body against his. Her hands are on his arms, her breath in his mouth. She gasps, and he pulls back to look at her face, at her heavy-lidded eyes and her open mouth.

He parts his lips to say something, he doesn't know what. Nothing comes out. Jess smiles, and Sam smiles back, a light, bubbling feeling in his chest and arms and legs. He pulls away, and realizes very suddenly that they're alone.

“Where's Gabriel?”

Jess blinks, looks around. “He was here a second ago.” She says dumbly.

“Gabriel!” Sam calls, to no answer.

Jess calls too, but there's no one here but the two of them. A heavy dread quickly replaces the happy buzzing in Sam's limbs, a fear that reaches up and clogs his throat.

“We have to find him.”

“I _know_!” Jess says frantically, digging through her bag, she thrusts another flashlight toward him, “Here, take this. You go left, I’ll go right. Don't go far. Just a few minutes and then come back if you don't find him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He's perfectly fine with Jess taking the lead, she knows what she's doing here and he has no idea at all. All he knows is that they have to find Gabriel. They have to get to him before he hurts himself or something else does. Where did he go? _Why_ did he go? What if something took him?

“Breathe.” Says Jess, “We'll find him. He can't have gotten far.”

They split up, a rookie mistake according to every horror movie he's ever seen, but he doesn't even care. If something's happened to Gabriel, he doesn't know what he'll do. He can't stand it, he can barely stand _thinking_ about it.

He's so wrapped up in his own head that he almost misses the sound of sniffling, but he catches it at the last minute, and follows it around a corner. He finds Gabriel on the ground, cradling his ankle. His cheeks are wet.

“God, Gabriel,” Sam goes to his knees, breath leaving him all in a rush, “I thought you got eaten by a fucking ghost.”

“I twisted my ankle.” He says, voice thick. He tries to brush his tears away quickly, but Sam has seen them.

“Well yeah, you go running off down a dark tunnel and you're probably gonna trip.”

Gabriel looks away, and it's his lack of response that has Sam really worried.

“Gabe... hey,”

“Um,” Gabriel swallows, “I just want to go.”

“Gabi, tell me what's wrong.”

Maybe it's the nickname that does it, or Sam's hand on his arm. He looks away, blinking. “You're in love with her, huh?”

“With...”

“Jess.”

Sam wets his lips, “Yeah, uh, I guess I am. So what?”

Gabriel shakes his head.

“Come on,”

“I'm so fucking tired of being the third wheel.” He says finally.

“Hey, you're not! No way.”

“I _am_! I am, and I don't want to be!” He's crying again, fresh tears overflowing from his eyes to drip down his chin.

Sam leans forward to take Gabriel's face in his hands, to thumb the tears from under his eyes. “What if I love you too?”

Gabriel stills, his lips part. His eyes are wide with surprise. “Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn't change anything.” Gabriel whispers, “You'll end up with Jess. You're both tall and beautiful and smart. You end up together.”

“Stop.” Says Sam, “Stop it.”

“Why?”

He's not sure why. At least, not sure enough that he can put his feelings into words. He just knows that he can't let Gabriel feel this way; pushed to the side, overlooked, it's not something anyone should have to feel.

So he leans forward, he kisses Gabriel.

Maybe kissing two people in the span of twenty minutes is something Sam should feel bad about, but he doesn't. He doesn't think this is a bad thing anymore than he thought kissing Jess was a bad thing.

Gabriel tastes sweet, his lips are chapped, and he's more enthusiastic then Jess. His hands are in Sam's hair, his tongue touching sweetly against Sam's lips.

When they pull apart, the air between them is serious, not heady like it was with Jess. Gabriel still has that wary look in his eye.

“I don't know what this means.” He says.

“It means... it means I love you.”

“But you love Jess too.”

“Yeah.”  
  
“So it can't work.”

“Why not?” Says a voice from the doorway, a shadowy figure with a head of golden hair.

Gabriel looks embarrassed, but Jess doesn't seem at all perturbed that Sam has been going around kissing people.

“Because, he'll choose you. And- and I want to be happy for you, but it really really hurts, you know?”

Jess scoffs, “I thought you were smarter than that, Gabe.”

“What?”

“You love me, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

“And I love you. I also love Sam, who loves me, and you and Sam love each other. So what's the issue here?”

“I'm not sure what you're saying.”

“Me neither.” Says Sam.

“I'm _saying_... why can't the three of us love each other? Why does anyone have to choose when there's a much simpler solution right in front of us?”

Sam and Gabriel both stare up at her. Sam has no idea what he's feeling now: anxiety? Hope? It's hard to tell.

“We can't do that, can we?” Gabriel asks quietly.

“Why the hell not?”

“I mean, relationships...”

“Are about love. They're about happiness, or they're supposed to be. If two people make you happy, what's the difference?”

Sam scrubs a hand over his mouth. He's aware of polyamory as an idea, but he's never come in contact with it and he never thought it would be something _he'd_ be considering. There's a part of him that recoils, because everything has taught him that a relationship is between two people, but there's another part that recognizes this new idea as something good.

“Are we... mature enough for that?”

“Mature?”

“I just mean- I feel like this is going to take a lot of communication.”

“Have you met us?” Jess gestures between herself and Gabriel, “We can talk more than _anyone_ else you'll ever meet.”

Gabriel is still looking between the two of them with wide eyes, Sam isn't sure he even knows what's going on.

“I do talk a lot.” He agrees.

“We can figure it out.” Says Jess, “I mean, if you want to. If you don't-”

“I do.” Sam stops her, “I do want to. Gabriel?”

“Only if we can talk about this someplace warm.”

 

In Underfoot, an accord is met.

The wonderful thing about Jess and Gabriel's relationship is that it's based on years and years of friendship and trust built up through shared experience. They know each other. Gabriel knows when Jess is getting defensive about something, Jess knows when Gabriel needs to be treated gently instead of joked around with. They're very much in tune with each other, and it's something that makes Sam very happy.

They decide simply, in terms subject to change, that they're a trio. The three of them are in a relationship with each other.

Sam isn't really sure how this sort of thing is supposed to work, but he figures that there's no time like the present to learn.

They do decide, after much discussion, on a few rules:

  1. Let each other know what's going on. They don't always all have to be together (though they usually are), but they should let each other know if they're doing something.

  2. For now, they're just a trio. If anyone wants to add someone to the group, it should be discussed first.

  3. Constant communication.




It's not a lot of rules, but most things they discuss can be boiled down to _communication_. Personally, Sam doesn't think they'll have too much of a problem in that area.

 

 

Dean

 

Dean is at the grocery store. _Tea shopping_. Castiel is with him, of course, because this is entirely his fault.

“Do you like fruit teas?” Castiel wonders, “Or earthier blends?”

“I don't _know_.” Dean insists.

“Well, you certainly seemed to enjoy the herbal blends I had, so maybe we should start there.”

He reaches out and plucks a box of _Chamomile and Green Tea_ off the shelf and slips it into his basket.

“How about mint?” He wonders.

“Yeah, mint's good.”

One box of _Mint_ is added.

“Hmm. Do you like blueberries? Strawberries?”

“I mean, yeah, but do they really taste like fruit?”

Castiel thinks about this for a moment, and then decides, “We'll just get them and see what you think.”

A _Strawberry_ , a _Blueberry_ , a _Mango_ and a _Raspberry_ all find their way into Castiel's basket. Castiel gives Dean a long look, squinting and frowning, and then very suddenly adds a box of _Ginger Peach Black Tea_.

Dean is willing to play along with this game. He puts his hands in his pockets and leans back.

“Why don't you guess what I’d like,” He suggests.

“Guess?”

“Guess.”

“Is it a game?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“And what do I get if I win?”

“I don't know yet. Some novelty pens?”

Castiel laughs, but continues squinting at the tea. “Alright, I'll play.” He says.

Dean is delighted by the spark of competition in his eye.

Into the basket goes _Caramel Vanilla_ , and Castiel is reaching for another when a song starts to play on the overhead speakers.

Castiel freezes, hand halfway to the shelf.

“You okay?” Dean wonders.

Castiel turns to him, a wide smile on his face. “I _love_ this song.”

The tune is unfamiliar at first, something old by the sound of it. It may have cowbell. But then the words start and Dean smacks himself in the forehead.

“No.” He groans.

“ _Last night I had the strangest dream_ ,” Castiel sings along with the music, beginning to sway back and forth, “ _I sailed away to China, in a little row boat to find ya,_ ”

“Oh my god, this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.” Dean says over Castiel's singing. He's contemplating just leaving his friend here when the chorus comes and Castiel belts out,

“ _Ain't nothin' gonna break-a my stride, Nobody gonna slow me down, oh no. I got to keep on movin'._ ”

“Fucking christ.” Says Dean, laughing. Castiel is bouncing on his feet, swinging his arms back in forth in the most White Dad attempt at dancing Dean has ever seen.

“I've got to keep on movin', Dean.”

“You are _so_ lame. I can't believe I’m here with you.”

“This song is one of mankind's greatest treasures and I won't listen to you slander it.”

“I _will_ leave you here.”

Castiel sticks out his tongue and Dean laughs again. Castiel reaches out with his free hand to take Dean's and pull him into his weird, awkward shuffle-dance.

“No way.” Says Dean.

Castiel, ignoring him completely, continues to dance, sing, and attract the attention of several passing customers.

“ _I got to keep on movin'!_ ”

“You are _the_ most embarrassing person I’ve ever met.” He says, but he's not really trying to get away, and in moments he's swaying along with Castiel. He can't help it, joy is contagious and he hasn't had this much simple fun in such a long time. Dancing to Matthew Wilder in a grocery store? Not something that Dean Winchester does on the regular. Castiel Collins, however, is definitely the kind of person who does this all the time. 

It's refreshing, it really is. It's such an innocent kind of fun, such a simple thing, and Dean wants to wrap himself in it. 

When he starts singing along, Castiel crows with delight and pulls him closer, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist and making them sway together. 

Just then, a throat clears. Dean starts, and pulls away from Castiel, who looks distinctly put out. There's a blond woman with a pretty face and a nasty expression.

“You're blocking the tea.” She informs them sharply. 

Dean and Castiel move out of the way, and the woman reaches for the tea.

“Nice to see you too, Lilith.” Says Castiel, voice harder than Dean has heard it before.

“I saw your brother earlier.” Lilith answers, apropos of nothing, “Him and that slut and some tall kid. You know, if you took care who he hung around with, I don't think he'd be such a problem.”

Castiel's eyes have gone stormy. He hands Dean his basket of tea and folds his arms over his chest.

“Jessica is a delightful girl and I'll thank you to keep her name, and my brother's, out of your mouth.”

Lilith tilts her head back and laughs, “I'm just offering you some friendly advice, Castiel, no need to get so prickly. I'm only saying, they keep causing trouble and they're libel to get hurt.”

“I don't believe they're causing any trouble.”

One blond eyebrow raises, “Oh? Well then what do you call barging into the Town Hall and trying to break down the door of The Mayor's office, exactly?”

Castiel matches her stare, “What is it you want, Lilith?”

“Nothing, Castiel. Just saying hello.”

“You didn't.”

“Didn't I? Oh, well, hello. And goodbye.” She waltzes away with a flip of her long hair. 

Dean watches until she's out of sight, then looks back to Castiel, to find him shaking.

“You okay?” He asks.

Castiel presses a hand to his chest, ducks his head. “That girl has just about the worst energy of anyone i've ever met. Always has, even when she was small. It just- it gets to me.”

Dean grasps Castiel's shoulder, pulls him around to look him in the eye. “Is there anything I can do?”

Slowly, Castiel relaxes under his hand. His shoulders untense, the anger drains from his eyes. “You're doing it.” He says, leaning into Dean until he's close enough to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. He sighs. “You, on the other hand, have very good energy.”

“Do I?”

“You do. Very green, very cool.”

“Huh.”

They stand like this for several long minutes before Castiel pulls himself back and gives a wane smile, “I'm alright.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“We haven’t finished getting your tea.”

“Oh, right, the tea.”

“Try not to sound so enthused.” Castiel snipes. 

“Of course I'm enthused, my best friend is picking me out tea. What's not to love?”

Castiel glances at him, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a small smile. Dean can see a pink blush creeping into his cheeks. 

Dean watches, amused. Castiel is such a discordant character, at times flirty, other times blushing easily. Maybe it should be confusing, but Dean finds that he enjoys it. Castiel is a complex man, but he doesn't take himself too seriously. He's willing to do things like dance in the grocery store, he's not someone who thinks he has to be serious all the time just because he's an adult. 

Dean leans close to Castiel and bumps their shoulders together. 

“Alright,” he says, looking up at the wall of tea before them, “Let's do this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the song that cas was dancing to](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6PI09LcuHo)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TIME FOR KISSES
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER  
> \- a brief conversation wherein cas and dean speculate on whether or not their neighbors are incestuous

Sam

 

The Silence graveyard sits on the opposite side of town as the lighthouse, separated from the bulk of the town by Hennely Lake, wide and green and full of fish. The graveyard is sprawled out near the shore, old headstones and dying flowers over uneven ground. Trees grow up in the empty space between graves, nourished by decades worth of decaying bodies.

The trees murmur endlessly as the trio walks beneath them, whispering comforts and secrets into the air. Jess lets her fingers trail over the bark as they pass, she closes her eyes when she makes contact. She breathes in.

“What are you doing?” Sam wonders.

“I can feel them,” She says, voice full of wonder, “Little bits of souls all wrapped up in the roots and leaves.”

Gabriel comes close behind her, putting his hand beside hers on the bark. He closes his eyes, then frowns.

“I don't feel anything.”

“You have to be quiet.”

“I was being quiet before!”

“Mentally, I mean. Your mind has to be quiet.”

Gabriel grimaces, “Yeah, that's not going to happen.”

“Of course not.”

Sam's long legs and Gabriel's short follow Jess over the rolling hill toward a little house that sits at the edge of the property.

The facts are as follows: as a group, they've decided that, certainly, something is poisoning the town. There are too many things wrong, too many things broken. Too many ghost disappearances and holes to nowhere and mutated stags. It's not normal, even for a town like this. There's something off, something that's tainting the town's spirit in some way. They don't know what it is, but it's surely there, a poison seeping into the heart of things.

The plan, as it stands, is simply to make sure things are going as they should in all areas. Jess think there's far too much potential for corruption in Silence to just _trust_ everyone. According to her, there are problem areas.

Gordon Walker is the cemetery caretaker. He cleans the headstones, mows the grass, waters the flowers, generally makes sure things are nice and tiny and taken care of. He lives in the little house at the edge of the property. He's a ghoul.

They spot him watering a patch of flowers by the house and Jess marches right up to him. He sees them coming, straightens up and watches them approach warily.

“Mr. Walker.” Jess greets him.

“What can I do for you kids?” Walker asks, a suspicious edge to his voice.

“We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions.”

He squints at her, looks at Gabriel, Sam, then back to her. “What's this about, now?”

“We're... looking into something.”

“I don't think I should be getting involved in anything.”

“It's just a couple questions.”

“I have work to do.”

“It'll only take a minute.”

Walker sighs, giving up finally, “Yeah, fine. What is it?”

“Who gave you the job as Cemetery Caretaker?” Jess asks.

“The Deputy Mayor.”

“Was she worried about the fact that you're a ghoul?” Jess asks bluntly.

Walker glowers at her. “No, she wasn't.”

“Why not.”

“I'm reformed. Have been for five years.”

“So you don't eat the bodies?”

Sam almost flinches at her lack of tact. He hadn't known what kinds of questions she'd ask, and he thinks these are probably incredibly impolite, given the way Walker is glaring.

“No, I don't!” Walker snaps, “Roadkill only. Is that all?”

“Well-”

“No!” He says, “I think you've asked enough, time to go.”

“I only asked a couple questions!” Jess protests.

“Out!” Walker growls.

They hightail it, and Gabriel nudges Jess with his elbow on their way out. “What the hell, JJ? That was straight-up _rude_.”

Jess huffs. “I only asked a few questions.”

“A few _rude_ questions.” Sam points out. He may not be well versed in the niceties of non-human culture, but he's pretty sure you're not supposed to ask if someone eats dead bodies, even if they _are_ a ghoul.

Jess looks at Sam, then at Gabriel, frowning. “I can't believe you're ganging up on me!”

“Well,” Says Gabriel, then trails off.

“There was probably a better way to do that, is all.” Sam elaborates.

“I got to the point, didn't I?”

“You did, you did. But, you know, sometimes getting to the point isn't _the point,_ you know?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, sometimes it's just easier to be nice.”

Jess rolls her eyes and stomps off, leaving Sam and Gabriel to exchange exasperated looks in her wake.

Of course, her curiosity is not sated. They spend the next hour skulking around the property watching Walker. The most exciting thing that happens is Gabriel getting startled by a snake.

“Well that was a massive waste of time.” Gabriel grumbles as they finally make their way back to town.

“Well, I thought he might be up to something!” Jess insists.

“On what grounds?”

“I don't _know_!” She huffs, “I'm not freakin' Sherlock Holmes. I just thought it might be something!”

“You want some coffee?”  
  
“Of course I want some coffee!”  


Their booth at Underfoot is starting to feel like a sort of second home. Sam slides in and Gabriel comes in beside him, Jess takes the other side because she likes to spread out and tends to gesture wildly when she talks. It's nice, Sam and Gabriel watch Jess, fingers linked together on the seat.

It hasn't even been a full week since their confessions in the underground tunnels that led to the unconventional relationship they share now. It's new, and they're all a little nervous about it, but Sam has been half in love with both of them for a while now so it's mostly feeling like a relief.

He rubs his thumb over Gabriel's palm and thinks about ways they're different that he didn't anticipate. Jess treats them both much the same, except occasionally she'll kiss one of them or the other, while this relationship has opened up a whole other side to Gabriel. He's a little more confident now, more likely to initiate hand holding and kissing. Sam finds Gabriel's hand on his arm, his wrist, his back, more often than not. Gabriel is affectionate and tactile, and finds this a perfect way to express it.

Sam can't decide if the fact that Jess isn't very tactile at all comes as a surprise to him or not. She's just always focused on about a dozen things at once, and doesn't seem to find physical touch at the top of her to-do list very often. That's not to say it doesn't happen, or that she's not affectionate, but she's different than Gabriel.

She's more likely to give gifts, to show up at three in the morning wanting to talk about the future.

That's not to say everything's easy; how could it be with personalities as strong as theirs? They've barely been a trio for a week and they've already had several arguments, but it's the same as it was when they were all just friends, so it doesn't worry Sam overmuch.

“Are you even listening?” Jess asks.

Sam blinks, shifting his focus back to the present, “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

Jess sighs, “I just don't know what to do next. Everything we've looked into in like the last two weeks as been a bust. When was the last time we found something weird, The Lighthouse?”

“Maybe there's nothing actually going on.” Gabriel suggests.

Jess shoots him an exasperated look. “There's definitely _something_ going on. There's that stag, and the hole in the church, and Hael.”

“And that's it.” Gabriel says, “Three things. Maybe... they're just coincidences.”

Jess frowns, frustrated. She looks like she wants desperately to have some sort of counterargument but can't quite think of anything. She looks at Sam. “You think there's something going on, right?”

Sam shrugs. “I mean, yeah, but I'm new here. All of it seems weird to me.”

“But, come on, don't you _feel_ it?”

Gabriel and Sam just stare at her.

“There's something- something there! I know there is! The town seems _wrong_ and I know there's a reason.”

“What seems wrong?” Gabriel wonders, “Seems fine to me.”

“Just-” She gestures wildly, “The atmosphere!”

“Babe.”

“Don't use that tone with me, Gabriel! I know what I’m talking about.”

Both boys are silent for several long moments before Sam clears his throat, “So, what do we do, then?”

Frustrated, or maybe exhausted, Jess slumps down and thunks her head onto the table. “I don't know.” She admits, “I don't know.”

Sam reaches out to put a hand atop her head and card his fingers gently through her hair. “We believe you.” He says, “We're not giving up.”

“Promise?” She says, still face-down. Her voice is small with worry.

“Promise. We're on your side.”

When she sits back up, her face is red and there's a little white place on her forehead where it was pressed against the table. Her hair falls haphazardly around her shoulders. “Sorry.” She says, “I know I’m being over-dramatic. But I _know_ there's something going on, I just do!”

“So we'll keep looking.” Says Sam, “Right Gabriel?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Sam claps his hands together, “So what's next?”

 

 

Dean

 

Dean's front yard has been transformed. Into what, he has no idea, but it's absolutely beautiful. It's the Fall Equinox, he's been told, and he's not really sure what that is, but he's happy to lend his house for anything that has Castiel looking so excited. Thanksgiving is tomorrow anyway, so they're celebrating that as well.

There have been people over all day, decorating and cooking, setting up tables and chairs in the yard. Dean has been trying to keep out of the way, but it's difficult and awkward. He feels like he should be helping out, but he has no idea what to do. There's so many people everywhere that anytime he tries to lend a hand he just ends up under foot.

Benny Lafitte, who owns the Fangfyre Diner and has commandeered his kitchen, tells him that he's doing enough by volunteering the use of his house.

“Usually we have it at the diner.” He says, “No room to dance an' a real damn hassle to clean up afterward.”

So Dean just sort of wanders around and helps carry things when he can. He latches on to Castiel, and that works for a while. He carries around a basket full of decorations and hands things to his friend when they're needed. Eventually though, Castiel leaves to change and pick up Claire, and a lot of other people do the same.

Dean sits on his porch, looking out onto the mostly-empty lawn. He catches sight of Sam, Jess and Gabriel by the side of the house, and a calm warmth washes over him. He's glad Sam has found people to care about here, that he's making connections and beginning to build a future for himself. He's been worried about Sam for so long now, and it feels like things are finally starting to get better.

He watches Sam's fingers twine with Gabriel's and then, with his other hand, Sam finds Jess too. The three of them stand like that in a loose little triangle, and Dean wonders what it means.

Dusk falls before long, and the people are back. They come in groups of three and four, parking their cars near the woods and ignoring the stag that stands sentry there. They bring teenagers and casseroles and wine, pies and bottles of strange swirling liquids. Benny's wife Andrea comes, Bobby and Karen, Eric and the centaur he's dating – which Dean definitely isn't thinking about. Sheriff Mills-Hanscum shows up with her wife Donna, who turns out to be a selkie. Cain and Colette, a couple of beekeepers, bring several apple pies which puts them quickly at the top of Dean's 'favorite people' list. A red-headed mermaid in a wheelchair shows up with the fairy from the library – Gilda, Dean thinks.

It's hard to keep track of everyone, especially since he has no idea who half of these people are, and he's tempted to go hide upstairs with the cat. Just as he's about to give in and hide someplace, he spots Castiel.

He's coming from his little car, parked near the woods, with Claire and Alex trailing after him looking uncharacteristically excited. He's got a casserole dish in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

Dean leaves his place on the porch in favor of going to help Castiel with his things.

Castiel sees him coming and smiles big, offering the wine with a flourish. Dean takes it and looks at the label.

“Blackberry wine?”

“It's good.”

“I've never had blackberry wine before.”

“Well, tonight's the night to try it, then!” As the girls take off across the lawn, Castiel calls after them, “Girls, behave.”

Claire turns back and gives him a smile that promises trouble, and he sighs. “What am I going to do with her?”

“She's a good girl.”

“She's a hellion.” Castiel looks after her, finally giving a small smile, “But you're right. She's a good girl.”

They start slowly back toward the house, and Dean notices finally that Castiel is wearing a dress. At least, something like one. It's some sort of shift, dark blue and straight, falling to his mid-thigh. He's barefoot. Dean eyes his legs with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. His tanned skin and muscular thighs make it an alluring sight, and Dean finds his mouth suddenly much dryer than before. He turns his gaze back toward the house, and looks at it for the first time today from far away. As it grows darker, the yard is bathed in a puddle of light, tiny glowing orbs hang in the air and cast shimmering light on the party goers. Several long tables are laden with food; squash fritters, apple tarts and pumpkin twist. Punch bowls full of warm apple cider with slices of oranges and sticks of cinnamon infuse the air with a wholly welcoming scent. Pumpkins full of marigolds, sage, and acorns sit all over the place, garlands of dried oranges hang from every available surface.

The window to the Winchester's living room has been propped open so that music from the sound system can drift out among the crowd. It's a beautiful sight, even if the whole thing is making Dean a little anxious.

“Thank you for doing this.” Says Castiel.

“Doing what?”

“Lending your house. You didn't have to.”

“No, I- I want to be a part of the community, you know?” Which isn't completely a lie.

“Well we all appreciate it. And the place looks beautiful.”

“It does look pretty great, huh? You did a good job.”

“Couldn't have done it without you.”

“Right, no one else could have carried around a basket.”

Castiel smiles and, to Dean's surprise, reaches over to slip his free hand into Dean's and give his fingers a squeeze. “There's no one I would rather be followed around and handed things by.”

For a moment, Dean can do nothing but stare into Castiel's eyes, clear and blue, and let himself be swept away by the cheerfulness in them. They continue to the house hand-in-hand, neither one feeling the need to separate, and Dean feels calm. He feels at ease holding hands with Castiel, he feels like he belongs.

 

The night is long, but Dean finds he doesn't really mind. In the dim twilight, he mingles. He meets the townspeople, his neighbors, and he doesn't hate it. Castiel is there beside him through it all, introducing him to people and telling him who to avoid.

At one point he motions toward a pair of men standing toward the edge of the circle of light. One has dark hair, the other blond.

“If you can help it, you don't want to talk to them.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Castiel says, cautiously, “They're, um... weird.”

Dean gives Castiel a look. “Ahuh.”

“Okay,” Castiel accepts, “but there's weird, and then there's _weird_.”

Dean looks back at the pair, trying to figure out what's so odd about them. He trusts Castiel's opinion, but he's not sure his companion has room to call anyone _weird_. The two men aren't human, although they have human torsos and heads, their legs and feet are that of goats. Still, this doesn't really stand out in a crowd of mermaids and centaurs. He doesn't spot anything else odd about them.

“I don't get it.” He admits.

“Alright, well, I don't like to spread rumors, but you're going to hear this one sooner or later anyway. That's Micheal and Luka Wells, they own Wells Bed and Breakfast over by the highway?”

“I've seen it.”

“Well, they're brothers. But... there's some, um, speculation.”

“Speculation?”

“That they might also engage in... sexual activity together.”

Dean jolts, looking back to the brothers as if he might see signs of it on their faces. He doesn't, but he still feels a sick unease.

“That's a pretty serious accusation, Cas.”

“I know, and it isn't one I’d normally put any stock in but, well, you have to wonder.”

“Do you?” It comes out a little harsher than he means it to, but something like that is pretty serious, and he'd hate to think someone's life might be made harder just because they're close to their brother.

“Just watch them for a minute.” Castiel instructs, unbothered by his sharp tone.

Dean huffs, but he watches, and soon he sees Micheal lean close to his brother and whisper something into his ear. Admittedly, he's a little closer than is really socially acceptable, his lip brushing Luka's earlobe. Luka laughs and his hand goes to Micheal's waist, sliding lower.

“Oh.” Dean says, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Yeah.”

“Well. That kinda kills the mood, doesn't it?”

“Would you like some wine?”

“Yeah, lets drink that damn wine.”

Castiel's blackberry wine is sweet, and it goes down easily. He and Dean sit in the shadows of the porch with the bottle between them, Castiel with a pile of marigolds on his lap, weaving them deftly into something. They each have garlands of acorns and dried oranges hung around their necks courtesy of Bess Fitzgerald, a werewolf who works at the Silence Library.

Castiel takes another long pull from the bottle of wine and then quickly finishes what he's working on. When he holds it up, Dean can finally see that it's a marigold crown.

“For you.” Says Castiel, lifting it up to set it gingerly atop Dean's head.

His movement brings him close to Dean, so close that Dean could count every one of his eyelashes if he really wanted to. Instead, he just smiles.  
  
“Thanks.”

“You look very regal.”

“Am I a prince now?”

“You're definitely king.”

“King of the marigolds? What does that make you?”

Castiel grins, “Maybe I’m the queen.”

Something in Dean's stomach does a little flip, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I don't think I could ever be a king. But queen I think, maybe.”

“Would we rule with an iron fist?”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Dean laughs, “No?”

“A kingdom needs room to grow, Dean. It has to be itself.”

“You're thinking of kids.”

“Same thing.”

“Oh, you're full of shit.”

Castiel wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue, which makes Dean laugh again.

“Your tongue is purple!”

“Purple?!”

“Yeah, it's purple!”

“I'm dying!” Castiel swoons dramatically, “I've been poisoned!”

“Oh my god, what will I do?”

“Well, you could goddamn _save me_ , you useless oaf.”

“Oh, wow. You know, I don't think I want to save you anymore. You're kind of a bitchy queen.”

Castiel shrieks with laughter and shoves Dean's chest before collapsing on the grass and throwing his arm over his eyes. Dean stubbornly doesn't notice the way his dress rides up, exposing more and more of his thighs.

“Well it's too late now,” Castiel informs him, “I'm dead. You were no help.”

Dean grins and leans over him, watching as his mouth parts on an exhale. “What about True Love's Kiss?”

Castiel pulls his arm off of his eyes and blinks up at Dean, looking momentarily surprised at their close proximity, “Well that's a little presumptuous, don't you think?”

“Hmm, I don't know, but you're dead, so...”

Castiel gasps in mock offense and slaps ineffectually at Dean's arm. “You pervert!”

They both laugh, and Dean almost kisses him. Castiel's mouth looks so soft and inviting, and Dean almost just leans down and takes it, but he chickens out at the last moment.

Instead, he reaches down to tug the hem of Castiel's skirt.

“What's with the dress?” He asks.

He sees the shiver go through Castiel's body when Dean's knuckle brushes his thigh, but he doesn't say anything about it.

“I like dresses,” The man says instead, “They're... freeing.”

“Freeing?” This time, Dean lets the pads of his fingers skate along the soft skin. He's not really sure what he's doing here, but he's definitely going for it. Castiel's leg twitches.

“Hmm. I find pants confining. They're meant for- for offices and factories, to keep people from feeling comfortable.”

Dean stills his wandering hand and takes a closer look at Castiel's face. “Why don't you wear skirts more often then?”

Castiel grimaces. “People tend to think it's weird.”

“I guess for some reason I was under the impression that you didn’t care what people thought.”

Castiel frowns up at him, “Of course I do. I care about people and I care about their opinions. I usually try not to let their opinions of _me_ affect me, but when you own a business...” He shrugs, “It's difficult.”

Castiel averts his eyes, and Dean takes this time to study his face. To look at the tension in his jaw and the lines around his eyes. He's quiet while he thinks of what to say. He's not quite sure, but he wants to say the right thing, the thing that will take that old hurt out of Castiel's eyes.

“For what it's worth,” He says, Castiel's eyes come back to him, “I think... I think you look amazing no matter what you wear. And I don't think people would stop coming to your store if you wore something different, you know? And, fuck 'em, if they do have a problem with it, right? They're just idiots.”

Castiel gazes up at him, lips parted on a silent word, eyes on Dean's. His hand comes up, careful fingers tracing the line of Dean's jaw.

“Oh dear.” He says.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It's just-”

“Yeah?”

“Will you... dance with me? I really like this song.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

Dean helps Castiel to his feet. They're both a little wobbly from blueberry wine and too much time sitting down, but Castiel's arms wind around Dean's middle and they're swaying slightly to the music before Dean can figure out what to do with his hands.

It's nice, once he finally thinks to rest his hands on Castiel's hips. He likes having the man pressed up close to him. He smells like freshly done laundry and sage, and his head on Dean's shoulder is a comforting weight. They sway together for longer than Dean can say, for two songs, three, he loses count.

He only knows the heat of Castiel's body against his own and the feel of breath against his ear. Then Castiel is pulling away, and Dean has a moment of panic before Castiel catches his hand and gives it a small tug.

“Come walk with me.”

Of course, Dean does. He may as well be a marionette for all the control he has over his actions currently.

They walk a little ways away from the house, into the dark beyond the reach of the fairy lights, away from the chatter and the noise. Everything is muted out in the darkness, but Dean can see well enough to tell when Castiel stops and turns back toward him.

“I remembered something.” Says Castiel, drawing himself up.

“What is it?”

“You owe me a kiss.”

“A kiss?”

“Yes, do you remember-”

“Of course I remember.”

Castiel wets his lips and takes a step closer, putting himself completely into Dean's space. “Well, if you're not opposed to it, I think I- I think now would, um, would be a good time for that. Maybe.”

“You want a kiss?”

Castiel opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “Yes,” He says finally, “I want a kiss.”

Dean considers him for only a moment before taking the man's face in both hands and leaning in to meet him.

Castiel gasps happily, squirming in his arms and grabbing the front of Dean's shirt to pull him closer. He parts his lips and lets Dean lick into his mouth, along his lips and his teeth. They kiss, Dean knows, for longer than is necessary, and they keep kissing. No one pulls back, no one protests, and Dean finds himself overcome with want.

Before he knows it he's backing Castiel up against a tree and slotting himself in between his friend's legs. Far from protesting, Castiel is gasping and huffing and leaning his head back to present his delicate throat. It's such a gorgeous throat, and Dean finds delight in kissing up the column of it, in sucking the soft skin beneath Castiel's ear into his mouth.

It's lust, affection, wine, and the heady taste of Castiel's skin on his tongue that have Dean sliding his hand up Castiel's thighs, taking his skirt with it.

At this, Castiel yelps and grabs Dean's wrist to still him.

“Dean Winchester!” He gasps, “This is- I- we are in _public_!”

Dean doesn't move his hand any further up, but he does give the tender skin of Castiel's inner thigh a playful pinch. “What happened to all that 'free love'?”

Castiel glowers, “I got a girl pregnant when I was seventeen, that's what happened.”

“Ha, yep. Not my best joke. Sorry.”

Castiel sighs and finally, finally begins to extract himself from Dean. He's still a little wobbly on his feet, but he's mostly sober at this point.

“I'd better go check on Claire.” He says, “She could be up to anything.”

Dean almost lets him go. Castiel turns away before Dean thinks to reach out and catch his wrist,

“Wait.” He says, pulling Castiel back toward him.

This time, the kiss is much quicker, but it still has Castiel absolutely melting against him and sighing happily when they part again.

Castiel smiles at him, eyes sparkling, “I'll see you later, Dean.”

“Yeah, see ya Cas.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Cain is a bogeyman  
> \- Colette is an elf  
> \- the centaur that Eric is dating is Gadreel  
> \- if you hadn't guessed, 'Luka" is Lucifer  
> \- he and Micheal are Satyrs  
> \- in case i havn't said it before, Alex is a vampire  
> \- so are Benny and Andrea but you probably figured that out


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, i know my gabriel is kinda ooc, but this is an AU and everyone is a little ooc. 
> 
> In this chapter:  
> \- sam's kinda horny tbh  
> \- mermaids  
> \- the gang goes diving in an underwater city  
> \- creepy stuff  
> \- the Big Fight!

Dean sits, legs crossed, on the floor of Castiel's apartment. Outside, rain is pouring down in unending sheets. Castiel has brought his plants inside to shelter them from the storm, and they sit in puddles of water on the kitchen linoleum.

Dean can hear Claire listening to music in her room, Gabriel and Sam and Jess talking in another, but Dean is in a bubble. Everything is muted, the air is cold from the storm.

Across from him, Castiel spreads leaves over the wood floor, as big as his hands. He has a bowl full of identical necklaces that have charms on the end, several candles, a pile of herbs. He grins over the bowl at Dean, smile wide and toothy, and gestures for him to lean forward.

When they kiss, Castiel closes his eyes like he's going to sleep. It's the calmest Dean sees him, with their lips pressed softly together. Then they part, and Castiel radiates happiness. Dean can't see auras, he doesn't know how they're supposed to look, but he's sure Castiel's is joyous. His eyes practically sparkle.

“What are you thinking about?” Castiel asks.

“Nothing important.” Dean lies.

Castiel gives him a look, “I doubt that.” He says.

“What are we working on?” Dean asks, hoping to change the subject. He'd been told to sit down across from Castiel on the floor, but has no further knowledge of their goal.

“Well, I’ve had an idea.” Castiel explain, looking excited, “And I think it might help ease all our minds a bit.”

“What is it.”

“Okay,” Castiel clasps his hands together, “So we have these necklaces. What we're going to do is charm them, so that they all link up to each other, and to our personal energies.”

Dean blinks at him. He has no idea what that means. “Right.”

“This way, we can draw energy from each other. So if one of us is in danger, they'll be able to pull energy from everyone else wearing the charm for, say, spells.”

“Okay,” Dean squints, “I _think_ get it.”

Castiel waves his concern aside, “It sounds more complicated than it is.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Well, sometimes I have trouble raising a lot of energy while doing other things, so I thought you could help me with that.”

“Is it hard?”

“Not exactly. I'm confident you can do it.”

Dean eyes him warily for a moment. He appreciates Castiel's faith in him, but he worries it might be misplaced. What if they start the spell and he can't follow through?

When he says as much to Castiel, the other man shakes his head. “It'll be fine, I promise. And, if for some reason you can't do it, the worst that will happen is we'll have to start over again. No big deal.”

He goes about his business, putting the herbs in a separate bowl and setting it next to the first, lighting the candles. Then he gets up and goes to open the balcony doors, filling the room with the roar of the storm, the smell of fresh rain, and a fine mist.

“Sorry,” He says, “I'm about to burn some things and I don't want us to get smoked out.”

He comes back to Dean and touches his bundle of herbs to the fire of his candle, once it catches he quickly blows it out so that it smoulders gently.

“Alright, what I want you to do is close your eyes, and imagine a rain cloud above you. With every breath you take, imagine the cloud swelling. Let it get as big as it possibly can, hold it there above your head. And when I say, take my hands.”

“That's it?”

“That's it.”

This, Dean thinks, he can do. He closes his eyes and does as Castiel said, imagining a rain cloud above him. He breathes deep, and its soft edges grow heavier with energy. Soon, he can almost feel it. It's almost a physical sensation, this thing above his head. Across from him, Castiel is doing something, murmuring something, but it doesn't matter all that much. All of Dean's concentration is on this one thing. This one point.

“Hold out your hands.” Comes Castiel's voice, from everywhere and nowhere all at once. He does.

As soon as Castiel's fingertips touch his, hands sliding together like pieces of a puzzle, he can feel his energy slipping through their connection. The cloud is getting smaller, smaller, draining away through Dean's fingertips into Castiel's. He can't do anything to stop it, and he feels sudden loss in his chest as the last of it drains away.

Castiel pulls away, and when Dean opens his eyes he sees Castiel's hands over the bowl full of necklaces, they're glowing subtly. It hurts his eyes to look.

In another moment Castiel sits back, done and satisfied with his work. He picks up one of the necklaces and holds it in the light, watching it shimmer.

“For you.” He offers it to Dean, who takes it with a hesitant hand.

“And I just... put it on?”

“Just put it on.”

Dean slips it over his head, it's just a simple silver chain with a circular pendant on the end. A pattern of overlapping circles decorates it. Castiel slips an identical one over his own head.

“Well? Are you feeling energized?”

“Uh, I don't know,” Dean admits, “I think I feel about the same.”

Castiel doesn't seem worried. “Well, since we're both just sitting here, I doubt it will make much of a difference.”

Dean wonders if maybe the spell didn't take, but Castiel seems confident and, anyway, the necklaces _are_ glowing and that definitely seems magical.

He helps Castiel clean away the burnt herbs and the bowls, and sweep up the salt ring on the floor. They close the door to the balcony, but the apartment still smells like a mixture of herbal smoke and rain, Dean finds that he doesn't really mind it at all.

Together, they distribute the necklaces to the kids: Claire, Sam, Jess and Gabriel. Once they're all on, Dean will admit that he does feel slightly more energized. Must be the kids' youth.

After this, he goes to sit on the couch and share soft kisses with Castiel under the watchful eye of his houseplants.

 

 

Sam

 

Sex is something that Sam has been considering quite a bit lately. It's only natural, he's twenty-two and spending a lot of time with two people he finds physically attractive, and since he's actually dating them now he assumes it's something that will happen at some point. It's a spot of anxiety though, because he's not sure how it works with three people. Threesomes are something he knows about objectively, but never thought he'd have the opportunity to be a part of. Now the idea is looming closer and closer and it's kind of fucking him up. He's fine with one-on-one sex but he honestly has no idea what he'll do with two partners. He's sure some people have no problem paying attention to two people, but that's not really his style and he's not sure how he's going to work around it.

It's a worry that's always close by, that he won't be quite enough for his partners. As it happens, he's not the only one who has concerns. It comes to a head a few days after Castiel gives them all some sort of weird necklaces.

Sam and Jess are at the house in Sam's room, Gabriel is working his shift at Fangfyre and won't be off for hours.

They're on the bed, and they've been kissing for a while. Jess enjoys lazy kisses, slow and deep and unhurried. She likes to lay back and close her eyes and lose herself.

Sam's arousal is evident, but he's in no hurry to do anything about it. He's got his mouth on Jess' neck and a hand up her shirt and he's incredibly content. Her breasts are soft and heavy, and he rubs her nipples to hear her sigh.

“Sam,” She says, after some time.

“Hmm?” He mumbles against her throat.

“There's something... something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

She sounds serious, and a little hesitant. Sam pulls back to look at her face. “What's up?”

“Ah, no. Don't look at me. Go back to what you were doing.”

Sam does, but his movements are hesitant now. He cups her breast in what he hopes is a comforting way and peppers kisses under her jaw.

“Okay,” She says, “I've just- I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. I figure it should be sooner rather than later. And I’m not breaking up with you, before you just assume.”

A bit of tension goes out of Sam's shoulders because, yes, it does sort of sound like that's what she's leading up to.

“So, I just wanted to let you know- I’m not into penetrative sex.”

Sam resists the urge to pull back and look at her again. “What do you mean?” He asks her clavicle.

“I mean, like, I’m fine with oral and stuff, but other than that I do _not_ want your dick inside me.”

“Oh,”

“And don't tell me I’ve just been having bad sex because I’ve tried lots of things and I just don't like it.”

This time, Sam does raise his head. Jess looks distressed, staring stubbornly at the ceiling. “I wasn't going to say that.”

She looks at him, frowning. “You weren't?”

“No, 'course not. Come on, you don't like something, we're not going to do it. That's not- it's not something you have to worry about. Promise.”

She sighs and flexes her shoulders, trying to get her muscles to relax. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. It's just- people always think their dick is like The One that's going to change my mind, _or_ they get really offended.”

“I'm not offended. And I know my dick isn't magical.”

Jess rolls her eyes. “Jesus, you're like, a saint or something.”  
  
“Wow, and you're supposed to be the smart one?”

“Fuck off.” Jess tells him happily.

“You think Gabe-?”

“Oh he's going to jump you as soon as he possibly can.”

“And... you're okay with that?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Sam frowns, struggling to put words with the emotions he's feeling. “I just- I don't want you to feel like you're... less a part of the relationship, I guess?”

Jess shakes her head. “I think people forget that relationships aren’t all about sex. As a culture, we place _way_ too much importance on it. But don't get me started on that. Listen, we're a team. Me and you and Gabe, we have a connection. There are psychical aspects to it, sure, but mostly it's, I don't know, spiritual? That's what's important.”

“You think so?” Sam kisses her collarbone, wondering at the smoothness of her skin.

“Yeah, I do.”

Sam lifts her shirt, slowly, in case she tells him to stop. When she doesn't, he pulls it all the way up and over her head. Her hair is golden against his pillow, her skin tanned and silky, her breasts spreading with gravity on her chest.

Sam has seen breasts before, and bare skin. Lips, eyes and long necks, they're nothing new. Yet he always finds himself in awe at the bare form, at the vulnerability and the trust afforded him by the exposed. He finds it heady, and he's half drunk on it when he kisses her breasts. He feels them everywhere, touches his lips to every freckle and to her nipples, beading under the stimulation.

She smiles down at him, and he's overwhelmed with gratitude, with clarity.

“So, is it okay if I go down on you?”

She laughs and reaches down to unbutton her pants. “Boy, like I’m going to say no to oral. Get at it! Get on down there. Dive.”

 

The first time with Gabriel, all three of them are present. They have the house to themselves because Dean is off blowing Castiel or something. That's a weird pair if Sam ever saw one, but he's glad his brother is happy.

Gabriel is in the kitchen making popcorn, and Sam doesn't fight the urge to sneak up behind him and kiss his neck. Of course Gabriel squeals and elbows him in the stomach, but that's to be expected. He warms up to it pretty quickly when Sam starts nibbling his earlobe.

“Better watch your popcorn.” Sam reminds him, kissing the dip beneath Gabriel's ear.

Gabriel shivers against him, his breath coming more and more ragged. “Um...”

“Popcorn.” Sam says, pressing one last kiss to Gabriel's shoulder before pulling away and leaving him leaning against the counter.

Jess is at one end of the couch in the living room and Sam settles himself smugly on the other end moments before Gabriel storms in and launches himself at Sam.

Gabriel is much smaller, so it's nothing for him to straddle Sam's lap, to kiss him hard. Sam laughs and reaches around to grab Gabriel's ass. He feels so much different than Jess. She's lithe and long limbed, sunlight and strength. Gabriel is soft in the hips, thighs and belly, he's warmth, he's like curling up in front of a fire on a rainy day. He kisses fiercer, like he's starving for it, like it's the only thing he wants. It's incredible, Sam thinks, that two people can burn him up so fiercely, but so differently.

They kiss, and they kiss, and they _kiss_. Sam lets his hands roam over the hills of Gabriel's body and feels him squirm.

Gabriel laughs, out of breath, and looks at Jess.

“Stop _staring_ , you weirdo.”

Jess grins and shrugs one shoulder. “It's hot.” She says.

Gabriel's cheeks flush red and he drops his forehead to Sam's shoulder.

“You embarrassed him!” Sam accuses.

“Aw,” Jess stretches out and pokes Gabriel in the leg with her toe, “You don't need to be embarrassed, cutie. Come here.”

“Ugh,” Gabriel groans, but he slides off of Sam's lap and flops down next to Jess, who pulls him close to her and kisses him long and deep.

Jess is right, there's something about watching the two of them kiss that gets him going. Not that he wasn't already going. He watches for a while, and then, he reaches in between them to undo Gabriel's jeans.

“Whoa,” Gabriel says, looking down, “This is happening? We're doing this? O-okay, we're doing this. Alright.”

“Man, do you really love giving head or what?” Jess wonders.

Sam doesn't answer, he's got his mouth full.

 

The beach is cold. The sky is gray, rolling with thick rain clouds. The wind off the water is icy and Sam is beginning to think this might have been a bad idea.

“Uh,” He says, “The water looks really cold.”

“It is,” Says Charlie, “It's freezing.” She's out of her wheelchair and into the arms of Gilda the fairy, who is definitely stronger than she looks. Charlie's tail is so long that it drags a trail in the sand, and she flicks it impatiently.

“What if we get hypothermia?” Gabriel worries.

“You'll be alright,” Gilda promises, “I have a solution. I'll show you in a minute.”

She makes her way slowly to the water, unsteady on the sand with her heavy burden. Her skirt billows around her knees in the water like smoke. Carefully, she lowers Charlie into the water.

The moment she hits the water, Charlie is more animated than Sam has ever seen. She flips around, diving under and coming back up to splash water at Gilda.

“Alright, kids,” Gilda gestures, “Come on over here and we'll start.”

The three of them wade into the shallow waters. It quickly soaks into their clothes and clings to their skin, freezing them in a moment.

“Th- this is t- too cold!” Jess grits through chattering teeth.

Gilda draws a piece of burnt wood from her satchel and motions Jess closer. “Come quickly then.”

When she's close enough, Gilda raises the back of Jess' shirt and presses the burnt wood to her skin. She begins to draw charcoal leaving faint lines on her flesh, slow, circular patterns that wiggle and warp. They change against Jess' skin, turn to a deeper black than should be possible.

One moment passes, then a second, and Jess collapses into the water.

Sam and Gabriel both start forward, but Gilda holds up a hand to halt them. In the gray light they watch as she begins to writhe. In the fashion of magic, the transformation happens just as Sam blinks. One moment Jess has two legs encased in jeans, the next, a tail.

It's a riot of oranges and whites and reds, in splotches and patches and swirls. Along the back of it is a wide dorsal fin, thin and delicate looking. At the end of her tail, her caudal fin branches in two, so billowy and sheer it looks like fabric. Jess still has her shirt on, a flower print crop-top, and her golden hair billows out in the water behind her. On her neck, gills open and close rhythmically, and she holds up her hand to show them the thin webs between her fingers.

“I get it.” Gabriel says, “Yeah, I'd drown for that.”

“Dude.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Gabriel steps forward, lifts his shirt, and lets Gilda begin to draw the sigil on his back. It takes a moment longer to set in than Jess' did, but then he's collapsing beside her and, in a flash, he has a tail too.

If possible, Gabriel's tail is even more dramatic than Jess'. It's a dark, dark blue, going gold at the edges of his fins, which are so immense that they threaten to swallow him whole. Thin and sheer, like Jess', they billow out to twice Gabriel's arm length, and he has four dorsal fins where Jess only has two. Sam has no idea how Gabriel is going to manage swimming with so much fin, but that's a problem for the near future.

Gabriel laughs and turns in the shallow water, “This is so cool!”

Suddenly it's Sam's turn, and he can't fully fight off the feeling of nausea that threatens to send him into a panic. He takes a breath and lifts his shirt as Gilda lifts her burnt stick, cringing when it pokes meanly into the meat of his back. He hisses through his teeth, but it's over in another moment, and his back starts to itch. It squirms and writhes, and suddenly his legs don't work anymore. The next thing he knows he's lying in the water, and his legs feel like they're full of television static.

He looks down, and he doesn't have legs anymore at all. It's weird, so weird, and he can feel his tail as if it's his legs, just another appendage. It's not the same, though he can't explain why, his tail is so much more sensitive than his legs.

He doesn't look the same as the others, they have soft billowy fins and sparkling colors. His tail is blunter, more round edges, matte brown with darker splotches that looks like they might be a pattern. Spots, maybe? It's hard to tell. His dorsal fin is more like a triangle, and he has two pectoral fins, one on each side. Suddenly, he realizes: he's not a fish at all! He's a shark! Looking at his torso, he sees the colors from his tail bleeding up his skin. He has webs between his fingers, and his fingernails have grown long and sharp, closer to claws now than anything else.

“Whoa.” He says.

“Come on!” Says Charlie, “There's a storm coming!” She dives into the surf.

One by one, they follow her, slowly getting the hang of their new appendages and ways of breathing. Sam expected breathing underwater to be harder, honestly, but it seems natural once he's under.

He blinks, and finds that he has a nictitating membrane over his eyes.

He opens his mouth and says, “Hey,” to see if he can talk underwater. He can, but his voice is muffled. Gilda must have done more than just give them tails as well, because the icy water seems fine now. It doesn't bother Sam in the least.

They swim on, through the shallows, watching the sun pierce the waves, running their fingers along seashells and reaching out to pester fish who are no longer afraid of them. Under the water, with the waves and the sun at his back, the world muted, Sam experiences a moment of the most profound peace he's had in years. He spins, so that he's facing the surface, and he can see the sun shining beautifully overhead. Everything down here is beautiful.

This, like most things, was Jess' idea. The World Gate sits out over the coast, inaccessible but by water. Jess proposed that they should check out the area around the Gate, make sure there are no disturbances. Charlie volunteered to show them the way, and Gilda would help them along. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Now, it seems like a great idea.

The currents buffer them, creatures scuttle away on the seafloor, and Sam is at peace.

They swim for a long time, into deeper and deeper waters. After a while, Sam starts to notice the cold a little, and he can only imagine how frigid it must really be down here.

His eyes adjust to the dark with miraculous speed, and soon he can see again as if it were simply dim and not pitch black. He can see bigger fish now, swimming slowly in search of their next meal. At one point he brushes up against something large and slick, and feels a very real thrill of fear when he can't figure out what it is. Is it carnivorous? Is this his end? But it swims on, leaving Sam on the verge of a panic attack.

Deeper they go, until they come finally to the edge of an enormous underwater cliff. It's so dark down there that even Sam's improved eyes can't see a thing, and he hesitates to go into that darkness. There's something about it that fills him with an unnameable fear, an all encompassing dread.

Charlie points up to the sky far above them, then mimes a circle. It's clear enough; they're beneath the World Gate. She gestures toward the trench, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Do they want to venture into the trench?

Before Sam can back out, Jess nods and follows Charlie quickly into the darkness. Sam is still for a moment, and Gabriel beside him. Gabriel reaches out and grasps Sam's hand, sending him a look that says he's not the only one who's afraid. Somehow, this helps. Sam might be scared, but he needs be brave for Gabriel. Hand in hand, they swim after the girls into the darkness of the trench.

It's even worse than Sam anticipated, such an advanced darkness that he can't even see his hand in front of his face. The only point of comfort he can find is Gabriel's fingers interlocked with his own, but it does nothing to assuage his fear. They swim forward, with no idea where they're going or what lies ahead, trusting Charlie and her knowledge of the ocean. But they can't see her, can't find her, she and Jess have disappeared into the inky blackness and now, very suddenly, Sam begins to think he's made a grave mistake.

It starts in his fingertips, a feeling like he doesn't quite have control over his body, then comes the dizziness, the difficulty breathing. The whole ocean is crushing down on him, all of that water and everything in it. Here in the black nothingness of this trench is where he's going to die, and no one will ever know because Gabriel and Jess will be dead too. They'll be eaten by sea creatures and their bones will find a place on the seafloor.

Sam can feel Gabriel tugging at his arm, his mouth at Sam's ear, but his words are crushed by the weight of the sea with no hope of reaching their intended destination.

He's gasping, aware that he can technically breathe, but not feeling like anything is happening.

Then, a light.

Sam freezes. Did he imagine it, or is there really a light? He strains his eyes, but sees nothing now. But then, there it is again. A flash of light, for a few moments illuminating the water around it.

The weight on his chest begins to ease, and Sam slowly calms as the blinking light drifts slowly toward them. When it's a mere arm's length away, he reaches out and plucks it from the water. It's a fish, small, with luminescent nodes along its sides that light up every few seconds. It's not much, but it's enough.

Feeling somewhat renewed, Sam holds the fish out in front of him and swims downward. It's not great, but he can see a little ways in front of him and it's better than nothing.

Then, the swish of an orange tail, and Jess is in front of him, with luminescent worms threaded through her hair so that she has a glowing halo. She grins and gestures them onward, to the craggy cavern floor. They swim close to the wall, and there's Charlie, gesturing toward what looks like a cave in the wall. She swims through, and the others follow.

It's not a cave, but a tunnel, seven feet wide by eight feet tall, stretching a long ways into the rock. Sam doesn't have much time to wonder where they're going before he sees a light in the distance, and it only grows brighter and brighter as they get closer, steady and unwavering.

Finally they reach the other end of the tunnel, which empties into a monstrous cavern.

Not once did it cross his mind that there might be cities down here. Even though there's mermaids and other supernatural creatures and a damn World Gate, he never thought about cites. It feels silly now, like an enormous oversight, because there certainly are cities down in the deep, and this one, at least, is impressive.

It's been carved from the rock with some sort tool, worn until every surface is smooth as silk. Luminous fungus covers the ceiling, so that the whole place is bathed in a pale green light. There are some things that might be buildings, but for the most part it's all open, mermaids swimming and visiting and copulating. They're all mermaids too, or at least they look to be, all women. They wear no coverings, bodies as free as their hair, and they don't seem to have any shame about it.

One woman swims over to greet them and begins making curious hand gestures at Charlie. Charlie responds in kind, and Sam wishes he knew what they were talking about. After a while, the woman swims a little ways away and gestures for the rest of them to follow.

She shows them around, to the spot where many mermaids float together eating fish and clams; to an alcove full of sharpened rocks and pointed sticks, a few swords, rusted almost completely through; to a big patch of long seaweed where many of them are tucked in, sleeping soundly. It's an amazing sight, and they spend probably an hour being shown from place to place. Here and there in the walls are bits of gems and fossils, but the mermaids seem to have no want for them.

Eventually they leave, albeit reluctantly. Sam could stay here all day, and leaving fills him with an odd sense of loss, like he's losing something that might have been.

They travel further along the trench, and next they come to what might be deemed a ship graveyard. They're everywhere, big and small, old and new, littered across the ocean floor like so many broken toys. Most of them have been picked clean long ago, and their wood is rotting and falling away, but some of the newer wrecks have interesting trinkets. Jess finds some jewelry in one, another finds an entire intact grill. Sam only goes inside the cabin of one, a small, newer looking yacht. The door is busted, and the small room is in shambles. The blankets from the bed are floating through the cabin, and he pushes them aside to look further. Broken toys litter the floor, and Sam gets a glimps of white bones before he has to retreat. He doesn't go into any more of the boats after that.

They continue on this way through the trench, first one way and then the other, but they find nothing out of the ordinary. Eventually, they begin to make their way back to the surface.

They're all tired at this point, and more than a little disappointment. There was a part of Sam that was sure, so sure, that they'd find something today beneath the World Gate. They've gone without any new clues for so long, it seems like they're due, but the sea isn't giving up any of her mysteries today.

Close enough to the surface, it's clear that the storm has begun. The waves above them are tossing, agitated and frothy. The small amount of light that filters down to the sand is dim and gray. It makes Sam feel uneasy.

They're making good time until, very suddenly, Gabriel gives a muffled yelp and grabs hold of Sam's arm. He's pointing, gesturing wildly, and after Sam looks he wishes he hadn't. To their left, and from the direction of the shore, seeps a shadow. It's dark, but has red undertones that have Sam thinking of blood. It's creeping along the ocean floor, smoke or some sort of heavy liquid motivated by evil means. Because it _is_ evil, Sam can feel it in his bones. Just the sight of it makes him sick to his stomach.

He can't yell underwater, he can't warn his friends of the oncoming danger, but he does his best. He gets their attention and mouths, _swim faster_ , and hopes that it's enough. Jess and Charlie spot the thing moments later, and he knows they feel the dread as well. Their eyes widen, their lips part in fear.

_Faster_ , he mouths,  _faster_ .

They swim, but the creeping red mass is faster even than Sam anticipated. Soon, it's upon them, lapping at their tails even as they make it to the shallows. The fear has them scrambling on the sand, fingers digging deep and finding no purchase, pulling themselves arm over elbow out of the cursed water onto the beach. Above, the sky crashes, and Sam hears screams as soon as he breaks the waves. He looks around, but he can't see anyone now. No Gabriel, no Jess, no Charlie. Just Gilda standing on the shore looking alarmed. 

There, a flash of gold. But from what, Sam doesn't know. He pushes himself, adrenaline overriding exhaustion, and climbs free of the waves. As soon as he's out, Gilda darts forward with a wash rag to break the lines of the sigil on his back, to turn him human again. 

He should feel uncomfortable as the transformation reverses, but he only feels fear. He flips quickly onto his back and scans the waves urgently, hindered by fierce winds that buffet him when he tries to stand. He can hear Gilda shouting, wondering what's going on, but the water is steadily turning red and he needs to know that everyone is okay. He needs to get to them. 

There, again, a flash of gold, and Sam crashes back into the water. He doesn't care about the red water, he cares about his friends. Finally, he sees Jess, struggling against the waves. He tries to grab her, only to be knocked off of his feet by an enormous wave. He struggles on, and finally manages to grab her around the middle and lift her. Her tail makes her heavier than she's ever been before, but he throws her over his shoulder and makes his way back to shore as quickly as possible. 

Charlie is there now, lying out of reach of the water, but still no Gabriel. Sam deposits Jess on the sand and doesn't stay to watch Gilda wash her sigil. He's back in the water, darting the red shadow and shouting for Gabriel over and over again, to no avail. Thunder drowns his voice and lightning fractures his vision. He's trying not to let fear overwhelm him, but it's too much. He can't find Gabriel, can't see him anywhere, hasn't seen him since they initially spotted the red water.

“There!” Comes a voice from shore. Sam looks back long enough to see Jess standing on her own two legs, pointing out over the surf, further out than Sam has been looking.

He doesn't have a tail anymore, or fins, or gills, but he dives heedless into the waves in the direction she's pointing. Through his burning eyes he can see the red creeping his way, and he can see Gabriel, finally, floating limp at the surface. He's unmoving, and Sam doesn't care about anything else. He swims as hard as he can until he gets to Gabriel and begins to drag him toward shore. It's exhausting work, the waves are growing enormous and the wind blows his hair into his eyes. 

Just when he thinks they're going to make it, when he begins to feel hope in his chest, he realizes that they're hedged out by the red water, there's no going around it. It stretches all long the shore and the bottom of the ocean, and it's steadily filling the gaps. He'll have to go through it.

He doesn't know what it will do, what affects it will have on him, but he knows that Gabriel's breathing is growing shallow and he has to do something. 

He hoists Gabriel up onto his shoulder as best he can and, gathering up what strength he has left, he wades through the red water. 

Immediately, he knows the affects. The red water clings to him, searing his flesh with a heat that must be acidic, it eats at his skin slowly. Every step is agony, Sam fights the urge to run, to drop Gabriel, to fall to the ground and try to get the pain away from his legs. He keeps going, powering on through the pain and the water, until he finally reaches the sand again.

Gilda and Jess descend on them, but the pain is getting to Sam now and everything is becoming very hazy. Everything is going... dark. 

 

Sam comes to in his own room, swaddled in blankets. His legs hurt like a motherfucker, but everyone is here. Dean is asleep in a chair by the bed, Jess is asleep on a pile of blankets on the floor, Claire is slumped against the wall, and Castiel is sitting cross-legged next to the bed, mixing something foul smelling in a big bowl. It takes Sam a moment to notice that Gabriel is curled up beside him in bed, a large white bandage on his temple. 

“Wha-” Sam starts, but his throat hurts and he has to clear it and start over, “What happened?”

Castiel stands up and sets his bowl on the dresser before he comes over to sit at the end of the bed.

“You fainted from the pain, and Gabriel his his head on a rock.”

Sam looks away, embarrassed. He fainted? How eighteenth-century is that?

“It's understandable,” Castiel continues, “Your burns would have hurt a lot, initially, but they're not deep and I don't think we'll have to worry about infection.”

They don't feel good, that's for sure. Even just laying here, they hurt so badly Sam could yell. “Should I be in the hospital?” He wonders.

Castiel frowns, “Probably,” He admits, “But... I'm not sure it's safe. Anyway, I have some pretty good burn ointment that'll fix you right up.”

“What do you mean, you don't think it's safe?”

Castiel hesitates, like he's not sure whether or not he should say. “It seems... things are beginning. Or maybe ending. It's hard to tell.”

Sam likes Castiel, he really does, but the cryptic speak really gets on his nerves sometimes. “Meaning what exactly?”

“Since you've been asleep, which has been only a couple hours, there have been three major power outages and what seems to be a plague of locusts.”

Sam blinks, “What?”

“We think the town is revolting.” Jess says, sitting up and brushing non-existent lint from her clothes.

“How do you mean?”

“The Town... it's been around so long, it's almost sentient. So much has gone into it, so much magic, so many hopes and dreams and prayers, that it... sort of developed a mind of its own.”

“A mind of its own.” Sam repeats, gobsmacked.

“It's normally dormant,” Castiel cuts in, “The last time it intervened in anything was the Wilhelm earthquake. Took out half the town, killed almost two-hundred people.”

“Shit. Why?”

“We had a serial killer. He'd murdered over two dozen people and no-one could catch him. The town took matters into her own hands.”

“So, so what? You think it's going to do it again?”

“Or something just as bad. _Something_ has the town... upset. I think it's only a matter of time.”

“What do we do?”

“I don't know.”

The three of them go quiet, contemplating the idea that one day, any day, the town might collapse and kill them all, simply because they can't figure out what's wrong. 

As if on queue, the power goes out again. 

Castiel sighs, “I'll light the candles.”

 

Dean

 

There's nothing like seeing your brother unconscious to drive home the fact that there  _really_ is something wrong here. Something majorly wrong. 

Charlie and Gilda were here for a while, after showing up on the doorstep with two unconscious boys and one terrified girl, all of them soaked to the bone, but they've long since left to seek shelter elsewhere.

It's the worst night for it too, pitch black but for when lightning spears the sky, the crash of thunder is loud enough to drown out the television, and apparently the wind has been knocking over power lines all over the place. 

Dean pours himself a glass of bourbon with shaky hands, knocking it all back in one go. It burns, and he winces, but he knows he'll feel better once it kicks in. 

Lost in his own thoughts, Dean doesn’t notice the ghost standing at the entrance to the kitchen at first. 

“Jesus, Emmie!” He chastises once he sees her, “You're gonna give me a freakin' heart attack, kid.”

She doesn't say anything, which isn't too far off from normal, but Dean doesn't like the way she's looking at him. 

There's something empty about her gaze, something weird about the limp way her hands fall at her sides.

“Emmie?” He says, gently, “You okay?” 

She says nothing, she doesn't even move. She's still as a statue. While her silence isn't overly abnormal, this stillness is. It's not natural, he's sure of it. Dean inches further away from her and does his best to keep the panic out of his voice when he calls out, 

“Cas!”

“What?” Comes Castiel's voice from upstairs.

“Could you come down here?”

“Give me a minute.”

“The sooner the better!”

Finally, Emmie moves, and Dean really wishes she hadn't. 

She opens her mouth, then she opens it wider. Past the point a living person could open their mouth and further still, further and further until it encompasses her entire face. Everything is teeth and tongue, wet with saliva. 

She screams, the shrillest sound he's ever heard, piercing his eardrums like needles. It goes higher and higher and Dean drops his glass to press his hands over his ears and duck as the light fixtures begin to burst. 

Dean doesn't look up again until the glass stops raining down on him, and the room is mercifully quiet. Emmie is gone, and Dean stumbles to his feet, shaking his head to try and dislodge the ringing in his ears. He doesn't hear Castiel coming down the stairs, but suddenly he's there, hands on Dean's shoulders.

He says something, but Dean can't hear him, he can't hear much of anything. He shakes his head again, and a little bit of his hearing starts to come back.

“What?” He says.

“I _said_ , what the fuck happened?”

“Emmie,” Dean explains lamely, “She... started screaming.”

“Quite a set of pipes,” Castiel jokes, but his eyes are tight with concern, he's looking at Dean's ears like there might be something wrong with them, “Has that ever happened before?”

“No.”

Castiel sighs, “Yeah, that's what I was afraid of.”

He barely has time to lean forward and press a kiss to Dean's forehead before the big kitchen window explodes inward, showering the room with even more glass. It takes a moment for Dean to register that this new threat comes in the form of the stag, The Stag, the harmless one that's been standing sentry near the woods since the Winchesters moved in. Its great, mutated face is inside the house, huffing crazily and rolling its eyes back in its head. Thick white foam falls from its mouth, which opens and lets out a horrific, many-voiced roar. 

Dean's first thought is to run, which is why he's so surprised when Castiel lets go of his face, grabs a long knife from the counter, and strides toward the beast. 

“I'm sorry,” Dean hears him say, and he quickly puts an end to it.

Afterward, everything is quiet. Finally, there's a moment of peace. 

Dean doesn't take the moment, instead he goes to Castiel, who stands next to the stag, now still. He's crying, arms wrapped around himself, shoulders hitching. Dean pulls him quickly into an embrace, hoping to ease some of his pain, even for just a moment. 

“It's okay,” He says.

Castiel shakes his head, but says nothing. 

It's the best Dean can hope for, Castiel is a sensitive soul, Dean saw him cry the other day because he spotted roadkill, this is the best he can do. He holds Castiel, and lets the man sob against his chest.

This needs to end.

He's no sooner had the thought than Castiel pulls back, still sniffling.

“I have an idea.” He says.

“Yeah?”

“It's... I mean- it involves you.”

“Alright.”

“I think... I think I can do a spell to determine the root of the problem. But it takes a lot of energy. Like, massive amounts of energy.”

“Okay, so, what? You need my energy?”

Castiel chews nervously on his bottom lip, “In a way.”

Dean doesn't want to seem suspicious, but the fact that Castiel is hedging around this makes him nervous, “In what way, Cas? Come on, just tell me.”

Castiel sighs, “I'm thinking of sex magic.”

“Oh.”

“Sex generates enormous amounts of energy, and I think if we can harvest it I should have enough for my spell.”

Dean clears his throat. “Okay, um. You and me?”

“That's what I was... proposing.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Oh, really? You're okay with this?”

Dean almost laughs, “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Many people find sex magic distasteful.”

“Not me! Two birds with one stone and, uh, all that.”

“Well, good!”

“So-”

“Alright-”

They both pause.

“You go ahead.” Says Castiel.

“You, um, want to do this right now, or what?” Dean asks carefully.

Castiel thinks for a moment, “Do you have any glass jars?”

“Yeah, I got some in the shed.”

“Lube and condoms?”

“Yep. Yeah. Got those.”

“Then I suppose... we might as well do it now.”

 

 

Sam

 

Something has to be done. The lights and the window in the kitchen are busted, there's a dead stag hanging half in the window, and Emmie is nowhere to be found. Things are steadily getting worse, and Sam doesn't think it's going to stop. Something needs to be done  _now_ . 

Castiel and Dean are off somewhere, maybe trying to calm Castiel down after he offed the stag. Sam, Jess, Gabriel and Claire are in Sam's room, having a meeting.

“It's the _heart_ ,” Jess says vehemently, “It's got to be.”

“The heart?” Gabriel asks.

“The heart of the town! It feels like the heart.”

Claire frowns skeptically, “How can it  _feel_ like the heart?”

“I don't know, it just does.”

“I mean, your hunches have always been right before.” Sam points out.

“ _Thank you_.”  
  
Claire rolls her eyes, but Gabriel says, “So then, what's the heart?”

“I've been thinking about that. I feel like... I feel like it's Town Hall.”

“Town Hall?”

“Not only is it _in the center_ of town, it's also where everything sort of happens. I'm serious. That's what I think.”

“So what?” Says Claire, “Are we supposed to just barge into Town Hall and search the place?”

Sam and Gabriel look at Jess, Jess looks at Claire, “Well...”

“No way.” Says Gabriel.

 

 

Dean

 

Dean and Castiel have not had sex yet, in fact they haven’t even really discussed what they're doing. Are they in a relationship? Are they just fucking around? Dean has no idea. Sometimes they make out, and Castiel has given him a couple of  _really stellar_ blowjobs, but there's been nothing more.

So, naturally, he has mixed feelings about this. Three fourths of the feelings are  _hell yeah_ , but the last bit is worried that this is rushing things. The last bit wondering if maybe having sex for the first time out of fear isn't a great idea. 

But they're basically out of options, and if Castiel says this will help, well, Dean's not really putting up much of a fight here, is he? 

He's tried to make things as romantic as possible, put out candles and even changed the bed-sheets. There are glass jars all over every available surface, a towel on the bed, and just enough light to see by. Castiel strips before they even get into bed, and Dean watches him with some interest. He feels like a creep, watching as one bit of skin is revealed after another, but he's allowed to do this. He keeps telling himself that he's allowed to do this.

When Castiel is finished undressing, he turns back to Dean, looking surprised to find he has an audience.

“You know,” Says Dean, “For someone who slept around so much when you were young, your striptease needs some work.”

Castiel's face goes cautious. “It does, doesn't it? Um. Do you want me to try it again-”

“I was kidding!” Dean gets up quickly to take Castiel's hands in his own, “That was a joke. A... really bad joke. I didn't mean- you did fine.”

Castiel nods, but he looks away and Dean sees him swallow nervously. “I'm sorry,” He says, “I haven’t done this in a very long time. Since Claire was born. Back then it was enough to just  _be_ there.”

“Wait,” Dean suddenly realizes, “You haven’t had sex since you were _seventeen_?”

Castiel huffs, but nods.

“Jesus, man. This should be special. This shouldn't be- be with me and bunch of jars because we might die.”

Castiel frowns. “We're not going to die.”

“That's so not the point, Cas.”

“The point is that you think it should be “special” because its been so long for me? It's just sex, Dean.”

And he's right, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt a little. 

“Ah.”

“Dean,”

“Uh, I think I just, um, need a minute.”

“No, wait.” Castiel grabs his wrist and pulls him back, looking awful serious for a naked guy, “That came out wrong. I meant-” He takes a deep breath, “I guess I meant that the act doesn't so much matter to me as who I’m doing it with. You know? I'm not worried about it being special, because I know it'll be _good_ , because it's with you.”

Now it's Dean's turn to look away, “So no pressure, huh?”

“Absolutely none.”

Dean sighs and runs his hands down Castiel's arms to link their fingers, “That really is a long time though.”

Castiel shrugs, “I never met anyone I had a real connection with, until you.”

“Jesus, man. You can't just say that kind of thing to a guy.”

“I can, and I will.”

“God.”

“Come here,” Castiel pulls him into a kiss, no longer hesitant, and reaches for the hem of Dean's shirt.

 

 

Sam

 

The streets of silence are eerily quiet. The four of them are walking along the side of the road, close to the buildings, watching for any sign of movement. 

Sam was against Claire coming with them, but she threatened to tell Dean and Castiel that they were leaving if she couldn't come along. So it's the four of them, treading carefully and reeking of fear. There's something just so malevolent about the empty streets, even though it's late and everyone may very well simply be asleep. 

“Did you hear that?” Claire asks for the tenth time in as many minutes.

“No! There's nothing there.” Jess tells her. 

“There might be!”

“There's not!”

Except of course that there is. 

A shadow, slinking out of the alleyway toward them.

“Oh fuck.” Says Gabriel.

Sam doesn't like shadows, he hasn't liked them ever since his encounter in the library, but he knows that they're benign. This one is not benign. Its entire body writhes as it moves toward them, changing shape from one blink of the eye to the next. It growls restlessly, waiting to charge. 

Sam's legs still hurt, Gabriel's head needs gentle care, but they need to run and that takes precedent. 

“Lets go!” He says, picking up his speed. His burned skin protests painfully, but he pays it no mind. 

It's moments before they're all running outright, and Sam can hear the shadow snarling behind them. 

“They're not supposed to be aggressive!” Gabriel yelps, narrowly missing a puddle in the road. 

They make it to the Town Hall with moments to spare. The big doors swing open easily and slam shut behind them with all the finality of a coffin. They pause for a breath, leaning against the sturdy wood, listening as the shadow creature scrabbles at the other side. 

 

 

Dean

 

Under his hands, Castiel is warm. He spreads the fingers of one hand out over Castiel's belly, touching the edges of his rib-cage with his fingertips. His other hand is between Castiel's legs, working his middle finger slowly into him. 

“You okay?” He asks.

“I'm okay.” Castiel breathes.

His mouth is on Castiel's chest, pink nipples under his tongue, tanned skin beneath his lips. Lower: belly button, the soft fat of his lower stomach, the little trail of dark hair leading downward. His mouth finds them all. A second finger presses in, and he swallows Castiel whole. There's a hand in his hair and one on his shoulder, urging him onward and onward. He mouths at Castiel's balls to hear him moan, holds them on his tongue and works them gently. A third finger, the tension is high. Castiel is taut as a bow, as tightly wound as a bomb. He's sweating and shaking, a blush covering his skin from chest to cheek. 

Dean leans up over him to kiss him on the mouth, and Castiel returns his kiss voraciously.

“Are you ready?” Dean asks him.

“I'm so ready.” Castiel sighs.

 

 

Sam

 

Naturally, they've gravitated to The Mayor's office on the second floor without even talking about it. It's obvious that this is where everything has been leading, or, if not everything, their hearts at the very least. 

Sam expects it to be empty, but when they enter the waiting room, there's someone at the desk. Hair askew, head bent over paperwork, looking much less put together than the last time he saw her.

Lilith lifts her head and blinks in surprise when she finds that four kids have appeared. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks.

“The town is falling apart.” Jess says, “We've come to stop it.”

Lilith glares and slaps her pen down onto the desk, she stands, revealing wrinkled clothes. “There's no stopping it!” She snaps, “What's done is done and there's no going back!”

“What if there is?”

“Don't talk about things you don't understand.” Lilith growls, “Some things can't be undone.”

“What did you do?” Gabriel asks.

Lilith blinks, like she forgot it wasn't just her and Jess for a moment. “Nothing.” She says. 

“You're bringing the town down around us.” Jess reminds her, “Are you willing to die for whatever decision you've made?”

“Stupid little girl!” Lilith hisses, “I've never made a decision I wasn't willing to die for!”

She raises her hand and begins to chant, a spark begins in her palm, uncurling into a massive ball of living flame. They only have a moment to scatter before she throws it.

 

 

Dean

 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, pressing his mouth to Castiel sweat-damp neck, “You're so beautiful. You're so fucking beautiful.”

“Dean!” Castiel gasps, like it's the only word he has left, the only one that will fit on his tongue, “ _Dean, Dean_!”

 

 

Sam

 

They're not equipped for this. Sam is human, Gabriel is only barely a witch, and Claire is too young to know enough magic to help them. The only one who stands a fraction of a chance is Jess, and she's woefully outmatched. She's said before that fairy magic isn't meant to be offensive, but Lilith is wielding hers like a deadly weapon. They duck behind chairs and doors and potted plants but it's not enough. Even if they could wield magic, she's so much faster than they are. 

This was a mistake, Sam realizes, such a mistake.

 

 

Dean

 

“Cas,” Dean pants, rocking into the man beneath him, “You close?”

“Yes!” 

“Wanna-”

“Yes, yes!” Castiel has a hand on himself, and his back bows as he comes, throwing his head back in pure rapture. 

Dean follows, pushed over the edge by the sight of Castiel. He stills himself inside his lover. 

On the floor, the jars glow brighter and brighter and then, overflowing, they burst. Inside Dean, something gives.

 

 

Sam

 

The room explodes. That's the only way he can think to describe it. One minute Lilith is throwing fire at them and the next a white light is encompassing the entire room. A howling wind and a sound like a train blast into the room from... somewhere. Sam doesn't know. All he knows is that when everything goes quiet again, everything is  _quiet_ . He looks out from the ficus he's taken shelter behind and finds the room in shambles. Every chair is overturned as well as the desk, and the door to The Mayor's office is smashed to bits. Nevertheless, his eyes find Jess, Gabriel, and Claire, all unharmed. In the middle of the room, Lilith sits, looking like she's been through a tornado. She may have. 

He stands on shaky feet, reaching out to his friends. They come, and they walk unhindered to the door of the office. 

Sam looks in, and he understands. Beside him, Jess sucks in a sharp breath. 

“We gotta call the cops.” Says Gabriel.

 

 

Dean

 

Dean never wants to get a call like this again. He's definitely had enough in the past year to last him for the rest of his life, thank you very much. 

At the very least, the first think out of Sheriff Mills-Hanscum's mouth when he'd picked up the phone had been, “The kids aren’t hurt.”

Still, he's going to have to do some yelling at some point, since they snuck out of the house to blow up Town Hall, apparently. 

Sitting shotgun in the Impala, Castiel seems to be thinking along the same lines.

“I can't believe they went off and did this without telling anyone!”

“I know.”

“They could have been killed!”

“You're fuckin' right.”

“They are grounded for eternity!”

But when they pull up to Town Hall and see ambulances, see the kids sitting in a little huddle in the back of one with shock blankets on, all of their anger turns quickly to concern. 

“Dean!” Sam waves when he catches sight of his brother.

“Sam!” Dean grabs his brother and pulls him into a hug, heedless of the people around, the paramedics and cops, “What the hell were you thinking? Are you hurt?”

He pulls back to examine Sam, who is shaking his head. “I'm fine. We- uh, we just wanted to fix things.”

“Fix things?!” Says Castiel, who is done hugging his progeny, sibling, and employee, and is now getting his breath back, “You're children! You shouldn't have to fix things!”

“No one else was doing anything about it!” Jess speaks up.

“Yeah!” Claire agrees, “Nobody else was doing anything!”

“We were!” Dean says. 

The kids turn to look at him, and he realizes too late that he can't really explain what they were doing to help.

“What?” Sam asks.

“Uh, you know what, never mind. We'll talk about it later.”

He's saved a moment later by the sheriff, who shows up and shakes his hand.

“How much trouble are they in?” He wonders.

“Actually, none.” She says, sounding as surprised as Dean feels, “Lilith confessed to everything, they're free to go as soon as they feel up to it.”

“Wait, what did she confess to?”

Jody looks at the kids, then glances surreptitiously around, “Well,” She says, lowering her voice, “I shouldn't be telling you, but since the kids were there,” She shrugs, “The body of The Mayor was found inside his office. Our coroner puts it around twelve or thirteen weeks. Lilith confessed to murdering him because she didn't like some of the upcoming plans he had for the town. Apparently she's been running things.”

“And no one noticed?” Dean asks, baffled. 

Jody shrugs, as if this is an everyday occurrence. “The Mayor was never big on public appearances.”

“Jesus.”

“I know. But hey, everything seems calm now. As half-cocked as they might have been, these kids are heroes.”

Castiel sighs and shakes his head, looking at his daughter, “Well, I guess that means I can't ground you, doesn't it?

“Hopefully?” Claire says, “I love you.” She says cheesily for good measure. 

“Alright everybody,” Dean says, clapping his hands together, “Lets go home.”

 

 

 

** Epilogue: **

** Six Months Later **

 

Dean sits at the kitchen counter, the town newspaper spread out before him. The cat is in his lap, purring happily as he scratches her head. 

He hears footsteps on the stairs, and he can tell by the tread who they are before he sees them. 

“Morning, sleepyhead.” 

“Ugh,” Says Castiel.

“I got you coffee going.”

“I take back everything I ever said about you.”

“Har har.”

“Anything good?” Castiel nods to the paper.  
  
“Jody got elected.”

“She'll be a wonderful mayor! Imagine that, the first elected mayor Silence has ever had.”

Dean squints at him, “How'd you guys pick a mayor before?”

“Oh it was a whole lot of blood rites, sacrifices, boring stuff.”

“Right, boring.”

Dean looks out of the kitchen, into the living room where Claire is snoring on the couch. 

“You know,” He says, feigning nonchalance, “It would be way easier if you guys just moved in here.”

Castiel lifts an eyebrow and grins in a way that says he knows exactly what it took for Dean to say such a thing, “It would be convenient.” He admits, “But there's nowhere near enough room.”

Dean thinks about this for a moment, “That big house on Terrace is for sale.”

“The one with the bay windows?”

“The very one.”

Castiel considers it over his cup of coffee.

“You think it's haunted?” He's asks finally.

“We can only hope.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True Love's Orgasm saved the day! Am I proud of this? Yes, yes I am. 
> 
> In case it wasn't clear, which it probably wasn't because i'm the one writing this mess, the energy from Cas and Dean's orgasm is what blew up The Mayor's office. Nobody knows this. The kids don't know what happened, and Dean and Cas think that their spell didn't work. But yeah, sex saved the day. I don't know, man. 
> 
> Jess was a goldfish mermaid. [ X](https://um-yesplease-photography.tumblr.com/post/159651780028/dreamiest-of-dreams), [X](https://goldfishe.tumblr.com/post/158133961334/my-power-has-been-out-for-over-24-hours-but-these)  
> Gabriel was a beta fish mermaid. [ X](http://blue-n-yellow-itup.tumblr.com/post/100613188588/visarute-angkatavanich)  
> Sam was a tiger shark mermaid. [ X](http://tigerrrsharrrk.tumblr.com/post/128408932171)
> 
> About the mermaids (in this au):  
> \- the mermaids are all born female, but there are trans male mermaids. they're still called mermaids  
> \- mermaids can fertilize their own eggs  
> \- the eggs are kept in a super secret place, and then once they hatch there are little mer-babs swimming around!!!  
> \- mermaids don't use pronouns, just names  
> \- mermaids use sign language to communicate  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr [here](https://deanlightful.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  
> 
> [Silence Falls inspiration pinboard](https://www.pinterest.com/theittybittys/silence-falls-fin/)


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